


Who Knows How Long I've Loved You

by evilswampwitch



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut, Time Travel, if you don't know anything about outlander that's okay, sort of cannonverse, you don't need to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilswampwitch/pseuds/evilswampwitch
Summary: The multi-chapter Outlander/The 100 crossover fic that no one asked for. A modern day Clarke takes a trip with her boyfriend, Finn, into the woods and then she accidentally travels 129 years into the future and runs into the cannonverse gang. Antics ensue.This is the first multichapter fic I've ever written so forgive me if there isn't a terribly thick plot.Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoy, they really make my day!
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor Finn/Clarke - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	1. Cabin in the Woods

Clarke has lived a relatively normal, perfectly fine life for a girl of eighteen. She lived in a normal, perfectly fine house. She grew up in a good neighborhood with both of her parents, and they were normal and perfectly fine. Her house had normal, perfectly fine vines climbing up the siding outside of her bedroom window. They lived by her normal, perfectly fine high school that she had recently graduated from. Everything was normal and perfectly fine. But Clarke has always felt like something was missing. She dreamed for some excitement, something to get the blood pumping in her veins. Something new, a challenge. Her life was fine, but sometimes she was bored, longing for something more. 

She has no complaints about her life, she has her best friend, Wells. Dear Wells, Clake’s childhood friend. They loved each other like siblings, and he was probably the most important person in her life. She has Finn, her boyfriend whom she does really care about, she tells herself. She does. He’s nice to her, he has great hair, and...he’s a good kisser. As with everything in her life, it seems, she feels like a piece of the puzzle is missing. Something not quite right and not quite wrong about everything in her life. She often wonders if she is going to feel this way about everything forever, or if one day something will change and bring a little excitement to her days. Will she get used to this feeling of being half full? Is that what happened to her mother? Perhaps that is the reason her mother has always been a little cold and unfeeling. 

Her mother is a surgeon at Polis Hospital and is widely regarded as one of the nation’s best medical practitioners, with people traveling the world to have Abby treat their ailments and illnesses. Clarke knows her mother is a gifted surgeon and beloved by the medical world, but her dedication to her work has left Clarke at home alone more nights than she can count. 

Her mom wants her to study medicine, but Clarke can’t think of anything more boring. She’s seen how that job takes over a person’s life and consumes them, and she really doesn't want to have this half full feeling her whole life if she can help it. She knows a little bit about medicine and how to heal, but mostly just the basics, and ironically most of what she knows she picked up from Grey’s Anatomy. Though her mother always chastises her for watching the show, saying “It’s unrealistic” but Clarke was always more invested in the relationship of Meredith and Derek than the medical storylines. 

Art has always been her passion. Her father was always the biggest supporter of her art. He would tell her she has a gift and she should not waste it in a hospital just to make Abby happy. After her father died, she had no one on her side about going to art school except for Wells, and her mother has a much stronger arm than he does. Clarke has resigned to studying medicine, if only to please her mother. And maybe she could meet a Derek or a Mark. Her very own McDreamy. 

Today is Friday, her mom has been working overnight, and there’s no telling when she’ll be back at home. Recently graduated and having nowhere to be at ten o’clock in the morning on a Friday, she’s sitting on the couch in her sweatpants and fuzzy sweater eating some Lucky Charms. She’s finishing up her cereal and the next episode of Brooklyn 99 when she hears a knock at the door. Clarke slurps up the last of her breakfast before setting the bowl down on the coffee table and standing to answer the door. 

“Finn! What are you doing here? Did I miss a text?” she asks, caught off guard. She was still in her pajamas, not even having had a chance to brush her teeth. She tries to smooth out her hair in an attempt to pull herself together. 

“It’s called a surprise, silly,” he says, a little mischievously, dropping in for a kiss. “I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she asks hesitantly. Clarke hates surprises. She likes to know everything that’s going to happen before it happens. Surprises are unnerving to her. 

“I got us a cabin in Washington, we leave as soon as you pack.” He goes on, “Your graduation gift. From me to you, babe.” he winks. 

“Oh Finn, that’s so sweet of you,” she says, polite. “But I’m not sure, I have a lot to do around here, and my mom is still at work…”

“Oh come on, you can call her or leave a note. It’s just for the weekend. We have the whole cabin to ourselves tonight and tomorrow,” he’s getting excited. She looks at him questioningly. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Finn, it’s just that, well, she doesn’t like surprises. She likes to plan her trips out, making lists of things she has to bring, things she might have to buy first. She likes to be prepared for anything, and right now she feels unprepared for this. Yet, something in the back of her mind tells her it might be exciting. It might be just what she needs. “Come on, there’s a few great hiking trails, a hot tub, a fireplace, and king sized bed,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I would have to pack all my things, that could take some time,” she says hesitantly, still unsure, wringing her hands. 

“I can wait,” he says decisively, taking a seat on the couch, and waiting, as promised. 

“Okay, I need to shower too, give me like an hour. Maybe more.” She’s speaking fast, already in planning mode. 

“I’ll be here!” he says contentedly, pleased his surprise panned out. 

Clarke bounds up the stairs, and grabs what she will need for her shower. She takes her time in the shower, mentally making a list of what she should remember to bring. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, Ibuprofen, deodorant, wallet, phone charger, 2 days worth of clothes, hiking boots. She finishes rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, and stands under the hot water for a moment longer, relishing her last few moments of alone time. Clarke takes long showers, she always has. The peace of the shower always offered her a reprieve from her life. Time seems to stand still in the shower, no demands, no one to please. 

She turns the shower off and wraps her towel around her body, making quick work of drying her hair and applying some light makeup. She dresses in leggings and a comfy t-shirt. The woods outside of Washington are about a two hour drive away from Polis and she wants to be comfy for the road trip ahead of her. Clarke grabs what she needs and throws it the tote bag she brings with her on all of her short weekend trips. She takes one last look around her room, hoping she remembers everything she’ll need. 

She decides to wear her dad’s watch, her mother gave it to her when her dad died. It’s a beautiful watch, with a red ruby in the center of the face. His birthstone. It makes her feel closer to him to wear it, and she thinks she could use an extra dose of comfort on this trip. 

She sighs and walks back down the stairs, a little slower than she would otherwise. It’s not that she doesn’t want to go with Finn, she’s sure she’ll have fun once she’s there. But the unexpected trip makes her feel a little uneasy, like she’s forgetting something. And okay, fine, maybe she’s not exactly looking forward to a trip alone with Finn, she wishes Wells could come along, but she suspects Finn wouldn’t love the idea. Finn is always jealous of her time with Wells, even though Clarke has told him repeatedly that they’re like family. Finn isn’t so sure. 

Finn is laying sprawled out on her couch, watching the end of Brooklyn 99. “I don’t know why you like this show, it isn’t even that funny,” he clicks the TV off with the remote and tosses it on the couch behind him.

“What do you mean? It’s hilarious, you just have bad taste. You like South Park,” she scrunches up her nose as she says it. South Park was never funny to her, or any of the shows like it. She knows she and Finn don’t have too much in common, but it never bothered her in high school. They always had school to talk about, they could discuss teachers and classes and their friends. But now that school is over, she’s faced with the glaring fact that she and Finn actually don’t have that much to talk about. 

“Whatever, Princess, you know it’s funny” he goes on, shooting her a cocky smile. Clarke decides to drop the topic, not wanting to discuss their differences. “Are you ready yet?”

“Yeah, one last thing,” she pulls out her phone to send her mom a text. 

_ ‘Hey, going on a weekend trip with Finn, I might not have reception. I’ll call you when I’m back to civilization.’  _

She clicks send. Her mother probably won’t like the idea of her going away with Finn for the weekend, but maybe if she spent more time at home, she would have the chance to stop her. She turns off her phone and pockets it, not waiting for the reply. 

The drive to Washington goes by quickly, Finn controls the aux “Driver picks the music,” he tells her, and Clarke has to endure his music. Finn likes upbeat, electronic EDM music and it gives Clarke a headache every time she has to hear it. She isn’t picky about music, she likes pretty much any genre, but for some reason EDM makes her ears bleed. She is grateful when they pull into the driveway of their cabin and he unplugs his phone, hopping out to get their luggage. 

The cabin was beautiful, Clarke has to admit. It was two stories tall, with a staircase leading from the driveway up to the front door. The outside was made of all wood and it had a beautiful wrap around porch lining the ground floor. Clarke mentally curses herself for forgetting her book at home. The porch overlooks a long expanse of beautiful trees as far as she can see. Clarke sighs wistfully. The perfect place to read a book, had she brought one. At least she can sit on the porch, drink her morning coffee, and enjoy the view. 

Finn picks up the key from under the rug where the rental company said they would leave it and unlocks the front door. Inside, the cabin looked exactly as she would have expected. It almost looks like it was decorated by someone’s grandma. The walls are made of the same wood the outside of the cabin was made of, and it appears the cabinets and table were also made of the same cut. The curtains were checkered green and white and the kitchen appeared to be apple themed. 

“Well, what should we do first, babe?” Finn asks her, “Should we go break in the bed?” he raises his eyebrows in question.

“You just got this place to get into my pants, didn’t you?” She teases playfully. It is sometimes difficult for them to get time alone, both still living with their parents. Though Abby was usually at work, it was hard to predict when she would be home and Clarke prefers to air on the side of caution. She doesn't want her mother to catch her having sex. That would be traumatic. So they sneak around when they can, but the opportunities have been few and far between.

They enter the bedroom, which again looks as if it was decorated by someone’s grandma. The bedset is a floral pattern and it reminds her of her own grandma. Not sexy. 

Sex with Finn is okay. She’s comfortable enough with him to not be self conscious, but Finn never makes a grand effort to make sure she enjoys herself, more concerned with his own release. It’s over quickly and Clarke is left, as always, unsatisfied. She goes into the bathroom afterwards to clean up and wash her face. She looks in the mirror and combs her hair back into place, going back into the bedroom to see Finn asleep. Not wanting to wake him, Clarke goes to check out the rest of the cabin. 

Out on the porch, she stares out at the trees. It’s beautiful, she thinks with a sigh. She sits down on the cushioned chair and closes her eyes. She has always loved the outdoors, it brings her a feeling of peace and contentment that she can never seem to capture anywhere else. The birds chirping, the river flowing, the leaves rustling in the wind. She decides this is her favorite part of the cabin by far, and thinks she would be content to stay out here for the remainder of the weekend. She checks her phone to see if her mother responded but realizes, as she suspected, that she has no service here in the middle of the woods. 

Clarke decides she wants to go hiking, and wakes Finn up to go with her. She goes to the bathroom to change clothes. Clarke puts on new leggings and a sleeveless grey tank top. She ties her hair in a ponytail and dons her hiking boots, ready. She exits the bathroom to find Finn has fallen asleep again on the couch. 

“Finn!” she shakes his shoulder a bit to wake him. “Let’s go! It’s going to get dark if we don’t leave soon,” she pleads. Clarke loves to hike, and Finn knows it. He knew he would get her here with the promise of time outdoors. 

“Just go without me, I’m just gonna sleep here,” he grumbles, turning to lay on his side, facing away from her. She sighs. Oh well, she’ll go alone. She knows the dangers of hiking alone but these woods seem quiet enough. 

Clarke grabs her sketchbook and a pencil and puts them into the backpack she brought with her for hiking. Nature is one of her favorite muses. The backpack already contains a water bottle, a first aid kit, and some mace. Always prepared. 

She hikes for about half an hour, before sitting down on a rock to sketch the small creek flowing through the trees. There are wildflowers surrounding the bank, and birds chirping in the trees above her. She sketches until she’s happy with it and the sun is starting to set. She decides to hike a little further and then turn around before it gets too dark. 

Before long, she comes upon a strange group of stones. They are taller than her, standing about seven feet tall, and all placed in a circle with the tallest one standing in the center. It reminds her of a miniature Stonehenge and she feels magnetically pulled to it. As she approaches, she itches to sketch it, but the cautionary voice in her head tells her it will be dark soon. She can hear a buzzing, almost like there is a swarm of bees nearby, and she wonders what this place is. She decides to turn around and hike back in the morning to sketch it, before Finn wakes up. 

Once back in the cabin, she finds Finn preparing food in the kitchen. “I drove down to the convenience store and bought us some stuff,” he says, proud. “How was your hike?” 

Clarke is fighting the urge to take over for Finn in the kitchen, he really is a bad cook. She’s not particularly thrilled to eat his cooking. He appears to be making Kraft mac and cheese. “It was beautiful, you should have been there,” she pulls out her sketchbook to show him what she drew. 

“Hm, looks good, babe” he hands it back without much examination and she feels embarrassed. She wishes he appreciated her art more. She always feigns interest in his passions for his sake, she wishes he would do the same for her. 

“Okay, done! Bon appetit!” he exclaims proudly. Clarke grabs a bowl from the cabinet, and plops some of the pasta in. They sit at the table and take a few bites. It’s not very good, and Clarke wonders how he could have messed it up when the directions are right there on the box. The noodles are overcooked and yet some are still crunchy around the edges. The milk to butter ratio also feels off. She wishes he had gotten some veggies or bread at the store to go with it. She decides that tomorrow morning after her hike, she will go to the convenience store and take over food preparation for the day. 

They laze around for the rest of the evening, watching Anchorman (Finn’s favorite movie) on the TV, and Finn falls asleep on the couch before it’s over. Clarke rises and falls into bed, wanting to wake early. In the morning, she will take a shower and hike back to the stones. Clarke’s mind wanders back to the mysterious stones, she can’t get them out of her head. She writes it off as an itch to draw, but something in the back of her mind tells her it’s something more. That buzzing still rings in her ears.

  
  



	2. The Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, I do not own any of the characters to either The 100 or Outlander.

In the morning, Clarke sticks to the plan she made the night before. While in the shower, her mind wanders back to the circle of stones in the woods. She showers quickly, combs her hair, deciding to let it air dry on her hike. She dresses in a new pair of leggings and opts for a tight, blue, long sleeve shirt, and grabs her bag with her sketchbook and bounds down the stairs. Finn had wandered into the bed sometime in the night, and Clarke knows he will sleep late. Finn could sleep all day if left undisturbed. She leaves him a note on the refrigerator telling him she went to sketch in the woods, and that she will stop at the store on her way back. She’ll be back, and have time to make breakfast before he even wakes up, she thinks, but better to leave a note just in case. 

The sun hasn’t risen yet and the air is crisp but Clake has a good sense of direction so she finds her way back to the stones in the dark without much trouble. She can almost sense where they are, and as she approaches, she can hear the buzzing again, growing louder as she gets closer. 

She finds a rock to sit on several feet away from the stones and pulls out her sketchbook, but before she can really get going, she notices a dot of light in the distance, moving toward her. 

Panic rushes through her and she hides behind a large tree, hastily pulling her mace out of her bag. Before long, she notices more lights, and as they get closer she can see that each light is a candle, held by a woman. Soon there are about a dozen women of varying ages, all in white dresses, hair down, holding candles. They stand inside the circle of stones, in a circle themselves, in complete silence. Clarke, still hidden from sight behind the oak tree, wonders if this is a funeral, wedding, or some kind of ceremony. 

After a few minutes, without a word, the women begin to dance, moving in circles around each other, and switching to the next person on their right. As they begin to move faster, arms outstretched, a candle in one hand, the hair on Clarke’s neck prickles. Some small voice inside of her warms her she shouldn’t be here. It should be ridiculous, she thinks, but she finds it fascinating. The ritual they seem to be performing appears ancient and powerful, and she is an unwelcome voyeur. The women continue to dance around one another in the dark, their candles shining in the darkness. 

As the sun begins to rise, the women move around each other faster, arms still outstretched. The oldest of them, a woman with long flowing grey hair and wrinkles lining her eyes, turns to face the center, her shadow appearing on the largest stone in the center. One by one, all follow and face the center stone, approaching it with their candles raised high. Clarke has goosebumps, but she’s enthralled and a little bit afraid of being exposed. The women file out and leave in the same direction they came. The sun has now fully risen and Clarke checks the watch on her wrist, 7:15. The sky is grey and it feels like it might rain soon. 

Jarred by what she just witnessed, Clarke considers turning around and going back to the cabin for fear of one of the women returning and finding her there and realizing she saw the whole ordeal. 

After waiting a few more moments, she determines they won’t be returning and leaves the safety of the large oak. She examines the stones, checks behind her once more and then returns to the rock she had been sitting on before the women approached. She opens back to the page and decides to sketch the women standing around the stones. After drawing for several minutes, she has to wipe the sweat from her upper lip, the humidity of DC in the summer getting to her. She reaches for her water in her bag and takes a drink.

Gazing at the stones, she notices a flower growing from the base of the largest center stone. She rises to examine it more closely so she can include it in her sketch. As she approaches the stones, the buzzing from yesterday returns, louder this time. A gust of wind blows around her and goosebumps pop up all over her body again. Her instincts tell her to run, but something is keeping her grounded there. The buzzing is getting louder and louder, clouding her thoughts and she suddenly feels like she needs to sit down, she reaches out to steady herself on the center rock, and suddenly everything goes black.

When Clarke was sixteen, she was riding in the passenger side of her father’s car, an old Eagles song playing softly on the radio. Her father was behind the wheel, driving them back from Polis after spending the weekend at her grandparents’ house, about 3 hours away. The rain was falling softly on the windshield, the wipers swiping rhythmically back and forth, pushing the rain to either side. Clarke started to nod off, lulled by the sound and motion into a feeling of serene weightlessness. Then her dad took a bridge too fast. Clarke woke to see the world spinning outside the car window. And the sickening sensation of falling at high speed. That’s the only way Clarke can explain the feeling she experienced when she touched the stone. But it still falls woefully short. 

When Clarke wakes, she feels like she’s been hit by a truck. She’s laying on the grass, and notices her sketchbook and the backpack she brought with her is missing. What the hell just happened? She wonders. She sits up and decides to hike back to the cabin, that’s enough hiking for one day. She feels dizzy and nauseous, and decides to skip going to the store in favor of going to lay down in the cabin. She hikes back the way she came, going past the babbling brook she passed yesterday. After about half an hour she stops, wondering if she’s lost. The cabin should be here. There should be a whole row of cabins here, but instead she sees nothing but the dense woods ahead of her. Starting to panic, she breaks into a sprint. Tears begin to spring into her eyes from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Through her tears, she trips on a root sticking out of the ground, tumbling down the hill she was running from. 

Laying at the bottom of the hill, she looks up. The fluffy white clouds slowly move across the blue sky. She thinks back to before she touched the stone, remembering how she felt like it might rain soon. The clouds appeared grey, where they are now white and fluffy, allowing the blue sky to shine through. What is going on?! How long was I out? She wonders, panic rising in her chest. 

After several minutes she stands and decides to start walking in one direction, thankful she left Finn a note back at the cabin, maybe he’ll come looking for her when he realizes she hasn’t come back. Clarke stops at the river to rinse her hands off, now covered in dirt from her tumble down the hill. She takes a sip of the cool water, having lost her water bottle. Splashing some of the water on her face, she hears a rustling of the leaves behind her, but before she can turn to see what it was, a pair of strong arms grab her from behind.


	3. 2149

Her captor is dressed in all fur clothing, head to toe, despite the hot, humid weather. He has greasy long brown hair that has been braided and tied at the nape of his neck and he stands at least a foot taller than her. He hasn’t spoken a word to her, despite her many angry questions. He’s bound her hands with a rope attached to his horse, which he is leading on foot. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” She demands, furious. 

No response. 

“Can you say SOMETHING?”

“Something,” he finally responds. Clarke rolls her eyes. Good, at least she knows he speaks English. Clarke’s mind is racing, does this man belong to some kind of role playing group? If so, she thinks he’s taking it too far. Does he intend to harm her? Has Finn realized she’s missing yet? 

The rest of their journey is spent in silence, Clarke having given up getting anything besides a snarky comment out of him. She tries to escape a few times, but her captor is much stronger than she is and the knots he tied around her wrist are strong. At one point she tries to collapse on purpose, hoping to slow them down, but the horse just keeps dragging her along as if it doesn’t phase him, and she ends up with scrapes on her elbows and dirt on her clothes. 

They reach a camp of sorts after walking for what she estimates is about two miles. There are several other people there, dressed in furs like her captor, and they are speaking in a language Clarke doesn’t recognize. There are five tents scattered in the clearing and nothing else is in sight. She is tied to a tree and given a canteen of water to drink.

“Thank you,” she says quietly to the woman offering the water. The woman only nods in response. Are they just going to leave me here overnight? She wonders. She can hear her captor speaking in English to a woman several feet away. 

“Let them know we have one of their people,” The man says. “Tell them where we are, and they will come for her. I know it,” The woman mounts her horse and leaves. What people is he talking about? It can’t be Finn. And if it is Finn, then all hope is lost. There is no way Finn could fight one of these people, let alone all of them. The woman returns about an hour later and dismounts her horse. 

“They’re coming. Three of them. They followed me. Thought I didn’t notice,” the woman scoffs. 

Three people? Coming for her? She has no idea who these three people could possibly be, but she feels hopeful. 

She shakes her leg in the air to get the woman’s attention. As the woman approaches with a skeptical look, Clarke says, “Please, you have the wrong person, I was just visiting a cabin with my boyfriend. I went into the woods to draw and now I’m here, I don’t have any people here, I have no idea who these people are! Please! You have to believe me! I’ll leave here and never come back! Is it money you want? My mom has money, if you give me a chance to call her on the phone, she can write you a check, please!” She has tears in her eyes. 

“Call on the phone? What does that mean, Sky Person?” The woman responds. 

“What? I’ll call her on the phone and talk to her, just let me borrow your phone,” Clarke’s eyes are desperate for this woman to understand her. The woman narrows her eyes. 

“What is a phone?” The woman replies.

Clarke’s eyes widen. Does this woman truly not know what a phone is? Do they live in the woods? Why did she call her a Sky Person, whatever that means?

“A-a cell phone? To make phone calls?”

“I do not know this cell phone you speak of,” she replies coldly. As if Clarke were trying to pull some kind of prank on her. 

Clarke’s stomach drops. Cell phones have been around for decades now, even if someone were to live in the woods like this, they would have to know at least what they are. Before Clarke can think any more about this, she hears a gunshot off in the distance and before long the men and women around her have drawn their weapons as well, ready for the attack. 

A girl around her age jumps out from behind a tree and charges for the woman standing by Clarke, tackling her to the ground. A man with darkly tanned skin and dark hair, who appears a few years older than her shoots one of the men holding her captive in the leg, and he falls to the ground with a shout. He then turns on his heel and pistol whips the woman approaching him from behind. Another man jumps out of a bush nearby her and clocks her captor in the face with the butt of his rifle. Finally, all of her captors are either knocked unconscious or dead and Clarke can only watch in a mixture of horror and relief. 

The darkly tanned man approaches her to untie the ropes binding her hands together. Up close she notices he has a smattering of freckles across his face. 

“Well, this is a surprise. Who are you?” He asks, a hint of amusement shining in his eyes. 

“I-I’m Clarke” she stutters, “Who are you? Why do they think you know me?”

“I don’t know, Princess. I was hoping you might have an answer to that question.” She’s reminded of Finn and how he sometimes calls her princess. 

“I tried to tell them I don’t know you but they didn’t believe me,” she goes on, “I was here with my boyfriend and then I went into the woods to sketch and then they found me and brought me here,” she takes a deep breath and exhales. “And you haven’t told me your name yet,” she goes on. She knows she’s rambling but she has a million questions now that she’s speaking to someone who might answer her. 

“Bellamy,” he smirks at her, clearly amused.

“Nice to meet you, Bellamy. Now, can you untie me and help me get back to the cabins? They can’t be too far from here.” she stands, crossing her arms, suddenly self conscious. 

“What cabins? There aren’t any cabins around here,” he says, and her heart sinks. There’s no way they could have gone far enough to be nowhere near the cabins. 

“Can you at least get me to the police, or a hospital, or something!?” Her voice sounds shrill, and tears spring to her eyes. She’s starting to panic. 

Bellamy narrows his eyes “We can take you back to our camp. It’s not much, but we have food and shelter. You can stay with us. The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he winks.

The other two, a man and woman, approach her. She sees the woman’s leg is badly injured from the battle, blood soaking her pants. “Oh, your leg looks bad, here let me help,” Clarke rips off the bottom of her shirt and ties it around the girl’s leg to stop the bleeding. “We need to clean that before it festers, do you have any alcohol?”

“Princess, if we had alcohol, we wouldn’t let you pour it on Raven’s leg, we’d be drinking it. Monty is working on a moonshine though, should be ready in a few weeks,” the man named Bellamy says. 

“That’s too long, the infection will have set in by then,” she settles with rinsing it off in the river nearby and wrapping it up in her torn shirt. 

Clarke wonders who these people are, why her captors assumed she was one of them. Do these people know what a cell phone is?

“Can I ask you a strange question?” Clarke asks as she’s cleaning off her hands.

“Shoot,” the other man, who’s name she hasn’t learned yet, replies. 

“Um...What year is it?”

The three of them abruptly stop walking. 

“What?” Bellamy asks, dumbfounded.

“What year is it?” she repeats, embarrassed by the question, but needing the answer.

“Well, the last I checked my calendar it was 2149.” 

Clarke freezes. 2149? 

“2149?” she repeats.

All three stand and stare at her. They nod their heads. 

“And are you...Sky People?” she asks, trying to fill in the blanks from earlier. 

“Is that what they call us? Miller, did you hear that? SKY PEOPLE?” The woman chuckles. So the other man is named Miller. 

“Are you, um, from the sky?” Clarke asks, lamely. 

“I suppose. We’re from space, we came down here a few months ago because The Ark ran out of oxygen and we, apparently, were the expendable ones,” he grimaces at her. 

“What do you mean?”

“They sent us here to see if we could survive on earth,” he says, as if it’s obvious. 

“Earth…wasn’t survivable?” Clarke asks.

“You ask too many questions, Princess,” Bellamy says, dismissing her comment. “We got to hurry up if we want to get back before sundown. We’ll need extra guards in case they try to retaliate.”

After walking through the dense forest for another hour or so, they reach the gates of their ‘camp’ which was mostly just dozens of tents and a crashed ship. Clarke notices a firepit in the center with some game roasting on a spit. Her stomach growls, when she realizes she never even ate before leaving for her hike. Everyone there seems to be around her age. No adults, she notices. 

“Welcome to Arcadia, Princess,” Bellamy says, with what Clarke is starting to notice is his trademark smirk


	4. Arcadia

When confronted with the impossible, the rational mind will grope for the logical. Maybe she had wandered into some kind of LARPing group, or a movie set. But there was no logical explanation as to why they would have real guns. Clarke is starting to accept that somehow, some way, she has fallen through time. 

After eating some of the game that had been roasting, and some berries a guy named Monty found in the woods. Clarke feels, if not full, at least satisfied. The sun is beginning to set and several of the people at camp, including Bellamy, Miller, and the girl with the hurt leg, who she has since learned is named Raven. 

“So, I have to ask. Who the hell are you?” Bellamy asks, very serious compared to his usual playfully smug demeanor. He appears to be their leader, or at least a person they look to for guidance. 

“I told you, my name is Clarke.” she replies plainly. Everyone has turned to hear her response, clearly not satisfied with the answer. Clarke is a terrible liar, she knows this. She heard once in a World War II documentary that when you’re being interrogated, it’s best to stick as close to the truth as you can, only leaving out the details you want to hide. “Look, I was with my boyfriend. We were staying in a cabin and I went into the woods to sketch when I fainted. Not long after I woke up, those people captured me and that’s when you found me. There, now you’re all caught up,” she claps her hands in front of herself, and lowers them to her lap.

The others look away and return to their banter, but Bellamy isn’t satisfied yet.   
“What about your boyfriend? Will he come looking for you? Where are your people from?” He asks the questions in rapid succession. 

“I’m not sure he’ll be able to find me,” she pauses to think. Should she tell these people where she’s really from? Would they believe her if she did? Maybe they could help her find her way back to the stones. “Do you know of a circle of large stones? They’re probably about a few hours walk from here?”

“No stones around here that I’ve ever seen, why?” Raven replies, a questioning look in her eyes. 

“I need to go back to those stones,” she goes on, “I think that’s where he would look for me. Could you help me find them? Please?” she begs. 

“Princess, I’m going to be completely honest with you,” Bellamy says, “we aren’t entirely sure who you are. You could be a spy for Ice Nation for all we know, and this could all be a set up,” her heart drops. “But you seem to have some medical knowledge and we are desperately in need of that,” he finishes.

“So, you won’t help me?” She pleads, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

“Not until we know you aren’t a spy. Until then, you get to stick with us,” Miller finishes. Clarke can feel her disappointment transition into frustration, then anger.”

“So I’m a prisoner, then? I can’t leave?” her voice getting louder.

“Oh you can leave if you want, but you won’t make it far in those woods without a weapon. You witnessed first hand the dangers out there. Especially now that they think you’re one of us,” Bellamy says, “We’ll keep you safe, feed you, and give you a place to sleep until then. Then maybe we can look for these stones.”

“I’ll need some clothes, I don’t have anything with me,” Clarke says, giving up. These people don’t seem to want to kill her, and that will have to be enough for now. 

Raven and a girl named Harper stand from their spot around the fire, each grabbing one of her arms. “We can help with that,” Harper says proudly. And they drag her off to one of their tents. As they walk across the camp, she can feel the questioning eyes on her. No one speaks to her, to ask who she is or where she’s from. Now that Clarke knows they fear she could be a spy, she notices the skepticism in their eyes. She looks down at the ground. 

“Back to what you were doing!” Raven shouts, “Nothing to see here!” she waves them away. Clarke is grateful. 

Raven has long, dark hair that shines beautifully in the setting sun. She’s slender and athletic, and Clarke wonders if Raven’s clothes will fit her. Harper is more her size, slim but a little curvy. 

Finally they reach someone’s tent and Harper lifts the flap for them to step in. “Home sweet tent!” Harper exclaims. Immediately the girls go to work searching through their things, holding them up one by one for Clarke to take her pick.

“What about this one?” Harper holds up the shirt in question. It’s a long sleeve grey henley. “It’s warm enough at night, but not too hot during the day. I think it’ll fit you nicely,” Harper holds the shirt up to Clarke examining the fit. 

“Sure, thank you,” Clarke says, accepting the shirt. She’s been quiet the whole time, letting the girls do their thing. 

“Okay, pants,” Raven says, “I have a few you might like, hang on,” the girl continues rifling through her things until she finds the pair she has been searching for. A black pair of jeans with zippers lining the sides. “Ah! Here they are! These babies have seen a lot,” she says proudly. 

Clarke gratefully takes the pants and thanks them again. “Do you really think I’m a spy?” 

“Nah,” Raven says, “That’s mostly just Bellamy, he can be a jerk sometimes. But he’s usually just trying to look out for us. Or his sister.”

“He has a sister?” Clarke asks, curious. 

“Yeah, Octavia. She met a grounder, Lincoln, and went to live with his people. Bellamy’s been pretty grumpy ever since,” Raven informs her.   
“Grounder? What does that mean?” Clarke wonders.

“The people who lived down here before we came. They kind of had their own thing going and apparently they didn’t like us messing it up,” 

“But I thought the earth wasn’t survivable?” Clarks says, thinking, “that's what Bellamy told me,”

“Well, I guess it was for them. We don’t really know how they did it.” Harper says. 

“What happened to Earth?” Clarke asks.

“Wait, how do you not know this?” Raven says, eyes narrowed. 

“I, uh, guess I forgot,” Clarke replies nervously. 

“HEY GET OUT HERE!” a voice calls from outside their tent, urgent.

The girls all jump out of the tent quickly, alert and searching for any sign of danger. Everyone is gathered near the perimeter of the camp, circled around something they can’t make out from their distance. They dash over to where everyone is gathered and the sight takes Clarke’s breath away. Jasper has been speared through his chest, spear still stuck in his body. There is a little bit of blood gathering around where it has been inserted into his chest, but not much. He’s barely conscious, his body likely in shock from the trauma. 

Miller is holding him down while Bellamy makes to pull it out. 

“NO!” Clarke screams from where she’s standing at the back of the crowd, “Don’t you dare pull that out of his chest, you’ll kill him!” Clarke remembers an episode of Grey’s Anatomy where something like this happened. They had to surgically repair the internal bleeding as they pulled out the object, something Clarke doesn’t think she would be able to do, even with the help of modern medicine. She wishes her mom were here, she would know what to do.

“Well what do you propose we do, Princess? Leave this sticking out of his chest for the rest of his life?” Bellamy yells.  
“The spear is what’s keeping him from bleeding out. If you take it out, there will be nothing there to stop it,” she says. “But you’re right, we need to do something,” Clarke remembers a book her mother owns, that she’s flipped through a few times. The book contains multitudes of flowers and herbs that can be used for healing. She used to love to flip through the pages and sketch the various plants. She remembers one that can stop bleeding, though she isn’t sure it would help much here. “There is a plant that could help, it’s called Yarrow and it can be used to stop bleeding and heal,” She informs them.

“Well that’s just great,” Bellamy says sarcastically, “Where do you propose we get it? We don’t exactly have a florist here.”

“It grows in the wild, I think it’s technically a weed,” she tells him, biting back her annoyance. “We may not have a florist, but we do have a forest.”

“Ha ha,” Bellamy bites back. “How do we find it?”

“I don't think we can find it in the dark,” she says. “In the morning we can look for it,” Clarke pauses, remembering something. “We could try to cauterize the wound tonight and deal with the rest in the morning,”

“Cauterize?” Bellamy asks, hesitantly.

“It means burn the veins that are bleed-” she’s cut off.

“I know what it means,” be bites back. “I just...how are we going to do that?” Bellamy says, trying not to be annoyed. 

“Well we have a fire, that’s a good start. We’ll need something small and metal, like a rod?”

“Something like this?” a girl calls, she’s holding up a metal poker they use for the fire.

“Yeah, that should work,” Clarke says, the ground feels like it’s tilting and she’s starting to feel dizzy realizing what she’s going to have to do. “Wipe it off as good as you can and stick it into the hottest part of the fire, we need that thing to be hot,” she says. The girl follows her directions, wiping it off on her clothing before carefully placing the poker in the fire.   
“What else,” Bellamy asks, apparently open to her ideas.

Clarke turns to Monty, “You got any of that moonshine ready yet?” 

“Why? Getting thirsty, Princess?” Bellamy smirks. Is he flirting with her, now? Really?

“We need to sterilize our hands at the very least, or he could get a nasty infection,” She decides to ignore Bellamy’s comment. The light of the fire illuminates his face so she can see his freckles. She suddenly wants to run her fingers across them. They remind her of the constellations she sees when she stares up at the night sky. She shakes the thought from her head. 

“I have some, but it’s not ready yet.” Monty tells her. He, at least is focused, she likes him. She’s gathered that Jasper is his best friend and she can see the worry on her face reflected in his. 

“It’ll have to do,” she tells him. He nods and runs in the other direction.

“This better work. We were all looking forward to drinking that moonshine,” Bellamy tells her.

“I’m going to try my best,” she promises him.

“Thanks, Princess,” he says, serious. “Maybe you aren’t a spy after all.”

“Can you find some clean linens? Something sterile to absorb the blood.” she asks.

“I don’t know about sterile, but I can get you some rags we had on the Ark,” Bellamy says.

“Fine, that’ll work. Thank you.” Clarke replies, genuine. She makes a mental note, tomorrow when they’re out looking for the yarrow, she will need to look for some antibacterial herbs as well, suspecting this isn’t going to be the cleanest operating room. She remembers several plants that have antibacterial properties. Oregano, lavender, ginger, and garlic, just to name a few. That she learned from the essential oils she used to collect. 

She takes a second to collect herself and steady her breathing, feeling her heart racing in her chest and the blood pumping in her veins. Soon, Monty returns with the moonshine and Bellamy follows not long after carrying a stack of clean sheets from the Ark. 

“We should move him somewhere with more light,” Miller says.

“No, I’m afraid if we move him, the spear will shift and he’ll bleed out before we get a chance to try,” she says, firm. “This will have to work.”

“Wait,” Bellamy says before running over to the fire pit. He returns with a torch, lit from the fire and holds it over Clarke kneeling beside Jasper. She nods at him in thanks.

Clarke takes another deep breath, “Okay, I need someone to slowly pull this out, an inch at a time,” she goes on, “I’m going to cauterize as we go,” she pauses, “Who wants to pull it out?” she glances around, those gathered around look to one another, no one wanting to be the one to take on that task. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Bellamy says, and he shoves the torch he was carrying into Miller’s hands. Bellamy tentatively places his hand on the spear. Jasper is still unconscious, but breathing shallowly. Probably best he’s not awake. 

“I need someone to hold him down if he wakes up,” Clarke says. “Someone strong.”

A man approaches from where he was standing at the back of the crowd, “I’ll do it.”

Bellamy starts like he’s about to protest, but Clarke cuts him off, “Thank you, who are you?”

Bellamy cuts in, “This is Murphy, and he’s an asshole who shouldn’t be trusted.”

“Well you’re going to have to trust him now,” Clarke says, getting annoyed.

“Jasper is a good guy, if no one else is willing to stand here and hold his screaming body down while you pull this giant spear from his chest, then I’ll do it,” Murphy says. She can see why Bellamy doesn’t like him. But she is thankful he’s willing to help, for the greater good. 

“Okay, well. I guess that’s everything,” Clarke takes a deep breath, holding her hands out for Monty to pour the moonshine on. He does, and she rubs her hands together, holding them upright like they do on Grey’s Anatomy. “It’s a beautiful night to save lives,” she says, “Let’s get started.”


	5. Quality Time

Clarke wakes where she fell asleep by the fire. By some miracle they were able to pull out the spear without Jasper dying. Murphy did a good job holding him down, and Bellamy even admitted he was probably the only one of them who would have been able to do that, due to his lack of empathy. Murphy had just rolled his eyes and said “You’re welcome”

She sits up to examine the embers in the fire, almost out. She thinks of Finn and her mother at home. They were probably losing their minds, assuming the worst had happened to her. They probably alerted the police and had people searching the woods for her. She wonders if they will find her sketchbook and backpack by the stones. Even if they did, she thinks, they would never be able to figure out that she had somehow traveled through time, now currently residing in the year 2149. She sighs, but feels content. She saved someone’s life last night. She thinks to herself that she can finally understand how her mother gave up her life to save the lives of others, it is an incredibly rewarding feeling. 

A few minutes later, Bellamy staggers out of his tent, followed by two other girls who had clearly spent the night. Clarke feels the prick of jealousy. Then she chastises herself for feeling that way when she has Finn at home, probably out of his mind with grief.

“Morning, Princess,” he greets her, “Sleep okay out here?”

“Looks like you had some fun last night,” she notes. He smirks.

“Oh you know, just grateful to be alive,” he says, looking like he has something else he wants to say. “Jealous?” 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “You wish,” she replies, trying to hide the fact that, yes, she is jealous. But she isn’t going to let him know that. He clearly already has a big ego, she doesn't want to further inflate it. 

He laughs at that, a full body laugh. It's the first time she’s seen him really laugh, and it’s a beautiful thing. He really is beautiful, she thinks. He’s taller than her by several inches, a known weakness of hers. She always used to tell Wells she had ‘height blindness’ meaning if a guy was over 6 foot all and had a decent personality she was done. Finn was about her height, maybe only an inch taller if that. She estimates Bellamy is at least 6 foot. His skin is darkly tanned and his arms are strong, another known weakness of hers. 

“I wanted to thank you, for saving Jasper,” he tells her, sincerity in his voice, “That was, um, something we would not have been able to handle if you hadn’t been here, so thanks,” he looks down at his feet, and back up at her. She thinks she can see a hint of blush in his cheeks. 

“You’re welcome,” Clarke says, matching his sincerity, “My mom was a doctor, I picked up a few things from her.”

“I mean it, Jasper would be dead right now if it weren’t for you,” he says, not looking away from her. 

“No problem, Bell,” she says. It seems to catch him off guard. The nickname just rolled off her tongue, she didn’t really think about it before she said it. But the way he’s looking at her makes her think it holds some kind of significance for him.

“My sister always calls me that,” he tells her, voice solemn. 

“Raven and Harper told me about her, that she went to live with a guy named Lincoln,” she says, not sure how much he’s willing to share. 

“Don’t remind me,” he says, but there’s a hint of playfulness in what he says. “Well, should we go look for that sparrow or whatever?”

She laughs at his intentional mistake, “Yarrow,” she corrects, “and yes, we should get going. I also want to look for some antibacterial plants in case the wound gets infected, but those should be easy enough,” she tells him. He raises his eyebrows, encouraging her to go on. “Yarrow is usually white, it has a lot of little flowers blooming at the top, they're usually kind of flat and the flowers almost look like an umbrella. Sometimes they can be yellow or red, but mostly white,” she goes on, “I trust you know what garlic, oregano, and lavender look like?” Bellamy nods. “Do you have something I can draw on? I’ll draw you a picture of what they look like.” 

When Bellamy returns with a wooden pencil and a piece of paper, she gets to work sketching what they look like, being sure to include details that could separate it from other weeds like Queen Anne’s Lace. She hands it over to him, and he examines it closely.

“This is really good, it should help,” he looks up at her, “Do you want to come with me? To uh, look for it?” he finishes, looking down at his feet. Again, she thinks she can see a blush rising up his neck. If she didn’t know any better, she would think she’s making him nervous. 

“Uh, sure! Thanks,” she stands from the log she was sitting on, going into Raven and Harper’s tent to get dressed. Harper and Raven are still asleep, but thankfully she’s able to slip in and out without waking them. 

“Okay, ready!” Clarke exclaims.

“Let’s hit it, Princess.”

Their walk through the woods is more uneventful than she would have expected after being warned of the unknown dangers lurking in the shadows. It does, however, give Bellamy a good opportunity to further question Clarke about who she is.

“So, I don’t think you’re a spy,” Bellamy states.

“Is that so? What makes you so sure?” Clarke asks, smile forming.

“For one, I don’t think a spy would have saved Jasper’s life the way you did,” He says, matter of fact. 

“How do you know that wasn’t just part of my grand spy scheme to get you to trust me,” she replies quickly. This banter is easy with Bellamy. She feels guilty about flirting with him while Finn is still technically her boyfriend, but she may never get the chance to see him again. Clarke has no idea if finding the stones is going to help anything, and she may very well be stuck here for the rest of her life. But at least Bellamy is gorgeous and they have great banter. 

Bellamy laughs, “For another, if you were a spy, you would have killed me by now,” he finishes, glancing over at her.  
“Hey, the day’s just getting started,” she teases. “You never know what could happen.” Bellamy laughs again at that. 

“Fair enough, Princess. But I’m still not buying it,” he smirks. 

“Okay, you got me,” she stops walking to gesture at herself, “Not a spy,” she finishes in mock defeat.

“Knew it,” is his reply. And they both laugh at that. It really is so easy, just spending time with him. It was never this way with Finn, even in the beginning. Their relationship had consisted mainly of Finn demanding he be a part of her life, and Clarke allowing it because he was nice and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She was comfortable with Finn, but she can’t help but wonder now if she ever really liked him, let alone loved him. She never had this spark, this magnetism with Finn that she’s experiencing with Bellamy. She wonders if he feels it too, this pull. 

They continue to walk for another several minutes in comfortable silence until Bellamy asks, “So what’s the deal with your boyfriend? Do you think he’s coming for you?”

“Honestly, no. I don’t think he is,” she says, feeling a smile tugging on her lips. She must be losing her mind. She won’t say she doesn’t miss running water, electricity, and Netflix, but this adventure is fulfilling the part of her that had never been fulfilled. That missing piece she feared she would never find. This is it, she thinks. She likes the people here, and while it seems dangerous and dirty, she has a purpose. She has medical knowledge that none of the others have and it makes her valuable. She can help people. And it doesn’t hurt that Bellamy is looking at her like she’s the sun. 

“Where do you think he is?” Bellamy asks.

“Far away,” is her only reply, then she pauses and thinks for a second, “Actually, h-he’s dead,” she tells him truthfully. If the year is 2149, it has been 129 years since she last saw Finn, and he would be long dead by now. Everyone she knows is. 

“Dead?” Bellamy asks. 

But before she has a chance to further process that, she spots something in the distance. 

“Hey, what's that?” Clarke points over Bellamy’s shoulder, directing his attention to an old shack, hidden away off the path behind a few dense trees. It doesn’t look like anyone’s tended to it in decades. 

“You stay out here and keep watch, I’ll go check it out,” Bellamy says, and she nods. He hands her his gun. “Use this if you need to.”

“Bellamy, I don’t know how to use this thing!” she whisper-screams, she’s never held a gun in her life, let alone had to fire one. 

“Easy, aim, cock, and fire” he says simply, “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick. You won’t need it,”

Clarke stands on the porch of the shack for a few minutes before spotting a white flower a few yards away. “Hey Bell, I think I see some yarrow! I’m gonna go check it out,” she says before tucking the gun in her back pocket and heading in the direction of the flower. 

When she reaches the clearing, she finds the yarrow and carefully snips them off at the root, clipping a few extras to plant at camp. Having it on hand might not be a bad idea, what with how often people seem to get hurt around here. Clarke stands and gazes out into the clearing, it’s beautiful. She wishes she had her sketchbook so she could show Bellamy later. It’s when she’s thinking about Bellamy that she notices something, off into the distance. 

The stones. Standing at the top of a hill that can’t be more than half a mile away. Without even thinking, Clarke drops the yarrow and runs towards the stones. 

She runs, and runs, until she can’t catch her breath, and then she keeps going. She’s filled with excitement, but also a little part of her dreads it. She didn’t think going back was going to be possible, but now she has to try even though there is a little voice inside telling her to stay.

Eventually she makes it to the top of the hill where the stones stand. All Clarke hears is birds chirping and the wind whistling through the trees. No buzzing. She sprints up to the center stone, waiting for the buzzing to start, but nothing happens. She places her hands to the stone, just the way she did the day before. Nothing. For a second, Clarke is heartbroken. She wants to see her mother again, if not Finn. She pounds her hands on the stone, but still, nothing happens. Before she can think too long on the topic, something hits her on the back of the head, and she’s out cold. 

When she wakes, Clarke is chained to the pipe of some building, she doesn’t know where. She wiggles her butt to see if by some miracle, they hadn’t taken her gun, but no luck. She sighs, disappointed in herself. She looks around the room to see if anyone is in there with her and she doesn’t see anyone, but she can hear two voices speaking in another language outside. 

Clarke checks the watch on her wrist, craning her neck, she doesn't know if the time is accurate here, but she can at least use it as a timer. It seems she’s been in here for about an hour, but Clarke notices something strange, the red ruby that had been in the center of the watch’s face is now missing. 

Clarke is feeling a mixture of emotions. First, fear for being trapped in this building, chained to a pole, but that one is a given. Second, disappointment. Both in herself for getting caught again, but also in the fact that the stones didn’t work. But third, relief. She likes it here, and she kind of isn’t too terribly upset that she appears to be trapped here. It’s not the worst place to be. 

Outside of the shack, Clarke can hear some commotion. She can hear grunting and the sickening sound of bones breaking and the blood curdling screams that follow. Hope springs up in her chest.

Not long after that, Bellamy crashes through the door and makes his way over to where she is chained, eyes wild. 

“Bellamy!” Clarke says, feeling tears of relief starting to form in her eyes, “Thank god, that was fast!”

“I tracked them here, but you had my gun, so I had to fight them off,” he tells her. 

Once unchained, Clarke embraces him. It seems to take him by surprise, at first he doesn’t hug her back, but after a second he wraps his arms around her and finally she feels safe. “Thank you,” Clarke says, her face still pressed into the crook of his neck. She pulls back to look at him. She’s never been able to look at him this close before and it takes her breath away. His curly hair is disheveled and there's a light layer of sweat covering his face.

“You scared me for a second,” he says, voice lower than she’s ever heard it before. 

“Sorry, I found some yarrow and they got me before I could realize what was happening,” she tells him.“That’s the second time you’ve saved me,” she says.

“Don’t mention it,” is his reply. They’re still standing close enough that she can feel his breath on her face, and she’s suddenly seized with the urge to close the distance between them and kiss him, but again, Finn’s stupid face pops into her mind. She grapples with the issue for a moment before remembering the stones didn’t work, and staying here might be her only choice. And if that’s the case, Finn really is dead. At least here. 

Before she can make her move, Bellamy pulls back from the embrace and she can see his cheeks are flushed. He clears his throat before asking, “Do you remember where you found the yarrow?” 

“If you can remember how to get back to the shack, I can find it,” she says, feeling a flush creeping up her neck as well. 

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” he tells her. 

They walk back to the shack in silence, neither knowing what to say to the other after the moment they shared.


	6. The Missing Piece

After finding the yarrow, they decide to turn back to camp, having had enough excitement for one day. On the way back Bellamy spots some lavender and places a sprig of it behind Clarke’s ear. Jasper’s wound begins to heal nicely with the help of the yarrow and lavender, and Clarke plants a few around the perimeter of the camp. 

She gets her own tent, right next to Bellamy’s. Most nights she lies in bed and talks herself out of slipping into his tent and laying down with him, craving physical touch. His physical touch to be exact. 

On her second week there, Bellamy brings her a leather bound notebook to sketch in, and she is grateful. The first thing she draws is him, sitting by the fire, flames illuminating his face in the most magical way. She’s examining his face intently when he asks “Is there something on my face?” 

“No, just your freckles, I want to make sure I get them right,” she tells him. He moves closer so she can get a better look. She finds herself thinking of Finn less and less as the days go by. She feels less guilty about flirting with Bellamy, with the knowledge that she’s doomed to stay here. Though doomed might not be the best word choice, she’s actually okay with it. She doesn’t have to worry about medical school or her mother’s expectations. Here, it seems she is able to strike a balance between medicine and art that she wasn’t able to back in 2020. She’s able to help people during the day and draw at night. She likes to draw by the fire the most, when her friends are around. 

The people have accepted her as one of their own, grateful that she saved Jasper. The knowledge there is a healer in their midst seems to put everyone at ease. She fits in well with everyone despite being born over a hundred years before them. There is no one she dislikes, not even Murphy. Bellamy seems to disagree with her, telling her something about how he was willing to kill a little girl, but Clarke dismisses it. Murphy reminds her of some people she knows back home, always looking out for himself. She isn’t sure, but she suspects he’s had a hard life that has taught him to be that way. 

She spends most of her days tending to her growing garden. As she remembers more herbs and their healing properties, she draws them and gives them to Bellamy. When he goes out to hunt, he brings the drawings with him. Upon his return, he brings her a bouquet of mismatched herbs and flowers that he found while he was out. She thanks him with a hug. She takes any excuse she can to touch him. Whenever anyone is sick or hurt, they come to her for help and she helps them in whatever way she is able to. 

At night, they all sit around the fire and drink Monty’s now fully fermented moonshine, telling each other about their days and laughing at each other’s misfortune. She sits next to Bellamy when she can, she likes it when her leg brushes against his. It shoots a bolt of electricity through her veins each time and it’s addicting. She can’t get enough of him, something she realizes she never felt with Finn. 

There was definitely a limit to the amount of time she wanted to spend with Finn, after several hours she found herself getting sick of him and longing to be back at home or spending time with Wells instead. She misses Wells the most of everyone. It pains her to think of his grief, of him thinking she died out in the woods alone, or worse. But she tells herself there is nothing she can do to reassure him, so she tries not to think about it. 

At night, alone in her tent with nothing but her thoughts, her mind drifts back to home. She misses her mother’s cooking and Wells’ corny jokes and she often finds herself crying. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy calls from outside of her tent. She had been crying, thinking of playing chess with Wells and how he lost his father last year, and how her apparent death would affect him. 

“I’m fine,” she calls back, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks. Bellamy cautiously lifts the flap of her tent and steps inside. 

“Doesn’t sound like you’re fine. Keep crying like that and you’ll wake up the whole camp,” he tells her. 

“I’m just thinking of home,” she says.

“The boyfriend?” he asks.

“Actually no,” she tells him. “My friend, Wells. He lost his dad a year ago,” feeling fresh tears spring to her eyes. “I just miss him.” 

He takes a moment to think before saying, “Want some moonshine?” quirking an eyebrow in question. She’s learned that Bellamy can’t help but be a mother-hen when someone is feeling down.

“Sure. Thank you, Bell,” she smiles. 

“Anytime, Princess,” he says with a smirk, before leaving to retrieve the moonshine in question. 

For a second, Clarke wishes she could tell Bellamy everything, the whole story. But she worries he’ll think she’s crazy and never speak to her again. She knows it's mildly irrational, Bellamy’s a hothead, but he’s not cruel. And she thinks he trusts her, maybe even cares about her, based on the fact that he’s out fetching her some moonshine to cheer her up. She cares about him, more than she ever thought she could care about a person she’s only known for a few weeks. They have this magnetic connection. When Bellamy’s in the room, she’s drawn to him. 

The flap of her tent opens and there’s Bellamy, moonshine in hand and a soft smile on his lips. “For you,” he says as he hands her the moonshine. He has a cup for himself as well, they clink their glasses together in cheers and take a sip. It’s foul, but it gets the job done. 

“Thank you, Bellamy. Not just for the moonshine, but for everything. For letting me stay here, for saving my life, and for, well, just - thanks for being my friend,” she finishes, wishing she had the courage to say more.

“Hey, who said we’re friends?” he jokes, smirking at her. She hates that smirk, she wants to kiss it off his face.

“I’m serious, Bellamy. Thank you,”

“Anything for you, Princess,” he says, but it lacks his usual sarcastic tone. He’s being sincere, and she’s not used to it. Clarke glances up at him from under her lashes and she can see he’s watching for her reaction, gauging her response. She smiles shyly at him in response.

The moonshine is starting to make her feel warm and comfortable and like nothing else matters in the world but her and Bellamy. 

“So, are you still planning on finding your way home?” he asks her.

Clarke pauses, “I think I already have,” she tells him. When she looks into his eyes, she can feel her own sincerity reflected in them. Her words leave Bellamy dumbfounded, his jaw going slack. She thinks about kissing him again and she notices his eyes are on her lips. He looks up to her eyes and she can see his pupils are blown wide with need and a little glassy from the moonshine. 

Bellamy breaks the silence first, “I-I should go. Cheer up, Buttercup,” he says a little awkwardly. It’s a side of his she doesn’t see often. 

He turns to leave the tent, but Clarke grabs him by the arm, turning him back towards her. “Stay,” she tells him, firm and sure. 

“Are you sure?” he asks.

In response, she sits on the bed and tugs him down with her. They lay, facing each other on their own respective sides on the bed, just looking at one another. Tentatively, she reaches out and grazes her fingers across the constellation on freckles splayed across his face. 

“I like your freckles,” her voice low, as if it's a secret between the two of them. 

“I like you,” he tells her, in the same whisper she used. Clarke smiles at him fondly.

“I like you too,” she replies. 

“Good,” is his only reply. 

They lay in the dark for what feels like hours, just looking at each other, not kissing or touching. Just sharing the same space and breathing the same air. 

“Will you hold me?” she asks him. 

“Anything, Princess,” he says and she turns around so her back is facing him, and he wraps his arms around her middle. She can feel his warm breath against the back of her neck and for the first time in her life, Clarke feels like she’s found the missing piece. 

She feels safe and loved and cared for like she never has in her life. She thinks their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces and she sinks into the warmth, wiggling until she feels properly snuggled. Clarke sighs contentedly and before she knows it, she’s already fallen asleep. She sleeps better than she has since before her dad died. 

When Clarke wakes up, she turns around to see Bellamy, but her bed is empty. She looks around, for any sign of him. She knows he stayed the night because once she woke up and turned to face him in her sleep and he pulled her tight against his chest. 

She makes quick work of getting dressed and runs her fingers through her hair to tame it. She sighs, wishing she had a mirror. And a toothbrush. About a week ago she asked Bellamy to bring back some mint leaves, so she quickly grabs a few leaves from her garden and pops them into her mouth, chewing and tasting the sweet mint. Maybe it won’t keep cavities away, but it will make her breath fresher in the morning and she’s grateful. 

What did that conversation with Bellamy mean? She knows what she meant by telling him she likes him and his freckles, and the flirting is undeniable. But he didn’t kiss her and she was kind of waiting on that. Maybe he just meant it in a platonic way. She knows he likes her, he’s always bringing back the plants she asks for and additional flowers just because. Her makeshift bed is covered in furs he brought back from his hunts. The signs are all there, but he doesn’t make any moves.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out why Bellamy had left her tent so early. Standing outside, surrounded by Raven, Harper, Monty, and Jasper is a woman with beautiful shiny black hair. Her hair is tied back in intricate braids and she’s stunningly beautiful. This must be Octavia. There is no Bellamy in sight. She turns on her heel to find him. Walking through the camp, she scans the crowd for Bellamy before finding him in his own tent. She cautiously enters to find him wearing only his trousers and her breath catches in his throat. He smirks at her and she has to shake her head to clear her thoughts. 

“Is that your sister?” she asks him. His demeanor shifts instantly.

“Yes,” he replies, jaw clenched.

“Why aren’t you out there,” she asks. “Seems like everyone but you is out there.”

“I don’t really, um, feel like it,” he replies, shifting on his feet. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” she tells him. “Go talk to her.”

He tries to protest, but Clarke grabs him by the arm and makes to forcibly drag him out there herself. At the skin on skin contact, her body thrums with excitement. “You should probably, um, put on a shirt.”

“Too distracting for you, Princess?” He asks. What a smug asshole to assume that his naked chest would be distracting for her. But yes, it is distracting her. And she thinks it might look suspicious if they were both to emerge from his tent with him in this state of undress.

“Just put a shirt on, idiot,” she says, averting her eyes to somewhere, anywhere else in the tent. 

He obliges, putting on a black t-shirt. Damn, he still looks good. 

Then she grabs him by the arm, yet again, and quite literally drags him out of his tent and over to where the crowd has gathered around Octavia. 

Clarke pushes him forward through the crowd until he’s standing face to face with his sister. 

“Bell?” she asks, cautiously.

“Hey, O.” he replies, stiff and uncomfortable. Suddenly Octavia breaks into a huge, beautiful smile and jumps into his arms, hugging him tight. After a beat he hugs her back and Clarke feels like she’s intruding on a personal moment. 

“I missed you, big brother,” she tells him before pulling back to look at him. “Who’s this?” she asks with an eyebrow raised, glancing in Clarke’s direction. 

Bellamy starts to introduce Clarke to his sister, but she beats him to it. “Hi, I’m Clarke.”

Octavia pointedly glances at Bellamy before looking Clarke up and down. She feels like she’s being appraised. 

“Octavia,” the woman replies. “Who are you?” she asks. This woman is intense. 

“Jesus, O,” Bellamy sighs. “We found her a few weeks ago. Grounders thought she was one of us. She’s staying.” he says firm, as if she were going to challenge him but he had to beat her to the punch first. Clarke blushes at Bellamy’s determination. 

She can see the resemblance between them, both in their demeanor as well as physical appearance. They have the same dark, shiny hair, though Bellamy’s is curly at the edges where Octavia’s is straight. And they both have a determination that would intimidate anyone.

Octavia turns to her once more, takes a moment to evaluate, face serious and concentrating. Then, to Clarke’s surprise she breaks out into another smile and pulls Clarke in for a hug. This seems to surprise her as well as Bellamy, but she can see him smiling out of the corner of her eye. 

“Alright you two, let’s go eat some breakfast,” Bellamy says with a chuckle, and that’s just what they do.


	7. The Flu

It turns out that Octavia will be staying at their camp for the night before heading out in the morning. 

They spent the day in the woods, Octavia and Clarke swapping medicinal plant information. Octavia has been learning about it from the grounder village she lives in now. Bellamy, ever the mother hen, insisted he come with them for protection. Their banter is limited, and Clarke picks up on some tension but isn’t sure if it’s her place to say something about it. To her, it just seems like they need to have a heart to heart and talk. She can see how much they care about each other. 

About two hours into their walk, Bellamy spots a deer through the trees and goes to retrieve it for their dinner. 

“Why is Bellamy being like this?” Clarke dares to ask when Bellamy is out of earshot. 

“Bellamy is Bellamy,” Octavia says simply. When Clarke doesn’t respond, Octavia elaborates, “He’s still upset that I left here to be with Lincoln.”

“I guess I can see why he would be sad about that, but why’s he being so weird?” Clarke asks again. Bellamy has been weird all day. Quiet most of the time, but when he does speak it's to say something condescending or unhelpful. It’s been getting on her nerves, but Clarke has managed to ignore most of it. 

“You have to understand. Bellamy,” Octavia pauses to collect herself, “Bellamy raised me. On the Ark, everyone was only allowed to have one child. So I had to hide under the floor, and Bellamy was my only friend. He split his rations with me, and made sure I had as normal of a childhood as he could manage,” Octavia explains. “He snuck me out for a dance and I had the best night of my life right up until I was found out, thrown in the skybox and Bellamy was fired from his guard position. Oh, and then they floated our mom.” Octavia tells the story with factual precision and not a drop of emotion, but Clarke can see the story is an emotional one. 

“Bellamy came down to Earth to protect me. He snuck on the dropship after trying to kill our chancellor,” Octavia snorts. “But then I met Lincoln and I know it upsets Bell, but I want to be with him. I love him,” she says simply. 

Clarke is starting to put the pieces together, understanding more of why Bellamy doesn’t want to talk about his sister. She doesn’t know what to say to the girl standing in front of her, having just gotten more of her tragic backstory. Her heart breaks for them both and she wants to help, but doesn’t know how. 

“Octavia, I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Clarke says after gathering herself. 

“I think that's part of why he’s acting strange,” she says, raising an eyebrow suggestively. “I think the other part of that is you.”

“Me?” Clarke is shocked. Why would she be making Bellamy act strange. 

“You know, Clarke, my brother never does anything for himself. He throws everything he has into other people, the people he cares about. He cares about you, I can see it,”

“Octavia, I don’t know what to say. We’re not...together,” Clarke says lamely. 

“He still cares about you. I’m glad he has you, Clarke. He needs someone in his corner,” she tells her. Clarke can feel herself turning red in embarrassment. “Do you care about him?” Octavia asks bluntly. 

Clarke pauses, is she really about to tell Bellamy’s sister how she feels about him? Of course she cares about him, she cares about him more than anyone she’s ever met and they’ve only known each other for about a month. But over that month, she’s seen just how kind and caring and smart and beautiful Bellamy is inside and out. 

“Yes, very much,” Clarke admits. 

“Good. You should tell him that,” Octavia says. And then, as if on cue, Bellamy comes back into sight dragging a dead deer by it’s bloodied leg. 

“Let’s eat, ladies,” he says with his cocky smirk. Clarke can’t help but smile to herself.

They eat around the fire together. Clarke, Bellamy, Octavia, Raven, Jasper, Monty, Miller, Murphy, and Harper. They tell each other about their days. Monty is making a new and improved moonshine with some of the herbs from Clarke’s garden in the hopes it tastes less like rocket fuel. Jasper found a marijuana plant and asked Clarke for some tips on how to cultivate it. Raven and Harper listen to their conversation and Murphy pokes fun at them. Miller asks if he can help Jasper with his pot plant in hopes of getting his fair share once it flowers. It’s nice, it's the kind of camaraderie you see in the movies. A ragtag band of misfits find a family in each other. She smiles to herself imagining the trailer for the movie about their lives. 

After a while, people start to wander back to their own tents, leaving Clarke and Bellamy alone at the fire. 

“Can I draw a picture of you?” Clarke asks, bashful. 

“You never ask if you can draw me,” he observes. “Well, go on, it’s never stopped you before,” he chuckles. 

Clarke reaches into her bag and pulls out her sketchbook and a pencil and begins to draw. 

“Can you come closer,” she asks. Bellamy pauses and after a beat moves to sit next to her. She turns her body to face him and he does the same. They sit face to face in silence for several minutes while Clarke tries to get the shadows just right. 

“You really are good at this stuff,” Bellamy tells her, voice low. 

“Thanks, you’re a good model,” she says, not breaking her focus.

“Anytime, Princess,” he says. 

“So, I talked to Octavia today,” Clarke starts.

“Oh here we go! What did she have to say this time? Look, I’ve already heard it from Raven and Jasper and I don’t need it from you too,” he says, getting angry. 

“No, I just wanted to tell you that,” she stops, “you’re a really great big brother. Octavia loves you very much. She told me about, well, everything,” 

“She shouldn’t have done that,” Bellamy stands to leave but Clarke grabs his hand before he can move away.

“Bell, take the compliment,” she says. “I think you’re great, okay? You're a good brother and you’re a good person. Now sit down, I’m not done yet.”

Bellamy reluctantly sits down once more and allows Clarke to finish. 

“Almost done, just need to add the finishing touches,” she says, lip sticking out just a bit in concentration. She adds a little more shading around his lip where he has a scar. She wants to touch it and ask how he got it but she stops herself. She’s suddenly aware of just how close they’re sitting and her breath catches. She looks up and hands him the drawing.

Bellamy stares at the drawing of himself sitting by the fire, looking at Clarke. She tried to draw him as beautifully as she saw him and she hopes that intent comes across on paper. When he finally looks up at her, she thinks she can see tears in his eyes. 

“Thank you, Clarke. I mean it, thank you,” he says sincerely. 

“You’re welcome, Bellamy,” she says reflecting his sincerity, “I want you to have it,”

“Clarke, I-” he starts.

“Don’t argue, I want you to keep it,” she says, not giving an inch.

“Thank you,” he says again.

“Can I draw you, now?” he asks her, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Uh, sure,” she says, handing over the pencil and sketchbook. Bellamy takes the supplies and leans back just a bit to observe her, taking his time. He starts to sketch, looking up every now and then to make sure he’s getting the details right. 

“Done!” he says, triumphant. He hands it over to her and it’s truly horrendous. She’s seen his handwriting and didn’t expect it to be amazing, but she can tell he’s tried. Her hair is flowing down her shoulders, which are disproportionate to her head. To top it all off, wrote “For Clarke, Love Bellamy” and that’s all that matters. He was trying to return the favor. 

She tries to school her face into seriousness, but can’t stop the laughter that breaks from her chest. 

“I’m sorry, it’s really very good, Bell.” she says in between laughs.

“No, it’s not. But that’s okay. There’s no way I could capture your beauty in a single drawing,” he flirts. 

“Well, you get an A for effort,” she says and they both laugh then. She takes the drawing Bellamy made and uses some tape she found to tape it next to her bed. What she doesn’t know is that Bellamy does the same in his own tent. 

In the morning, Lincoln shows up and he and Octavia ride off into the woods, but not before telling Clarke, “Take care of him for me, will you?” and Clarke only nods in response. 

The next few weeks are uneventful until a few people come down with the flu. Tending to the sick keeps Clarke busy. She draws Bellamy a picture of echinacea and sends him into the woods to look for it. Eventually, Bellamy falls ill and Clarke begins to lose her mind. It happens one morning when they’re sitting around the fire eating some fruit for breakfast. 

“You look terrible, Bell,” she says, reaching to touch his forehead.

“Gee, thanks Princess. You look great too,” he says, brushing her hand away. 

“I’m serious Bellamy, you’re burning up. Do you feel sick?” she asks, concerned. 

“I’ve definitely felt better,” he says. His eyes are gaunt and his cheeks are flushed. A fever for sure.

“You need to go lay down, I’m going to bring you something,” she orders.

“Clarke, I have so much to get done today, I can’t be trapped in a bed,” he says.

“Well, unless you intend to get everyone else sick, you’re gonna have to cancel your plans. Bed. Now,” she repeats, firm and unyielding. 

“Is that an order?” he asks, flirty.

“Doctor’s orders,” she says, putting emphasis on doctor as she says it. 

He finally listens and goes to lay down. Clarke gathers some of the echinacea and brews a tea. While the tea is steeping she gets some old rags and dips them in water. They’re not as cold as they need to be to help lower a fever, but it should make him feel better. 

When Clarke enters his tent, Bellamy is fast asleep on the bed. She decides to let him sleep and leaves the tea on the table next to his bed for when he wakes. Just as she’s about to leave the tent, she hears Bellamy shift in bed. She turns to look at him, and he’s awake. She takes the opportunity to put the cold cloths on his forehead and the back of his neck and he lets her. She tells him to drink the tea and that she’ll come back to check on him after she makes her rounds with the other sick patients.

“Clarke, can you stay? Please?” he begs. He’s delirious with the fever and Clarke knows it, but her heart starts to melt as she considers staying. 

“I just have to check on three people, okay? And I’ll be right back,” she says softly, as if talking to a child. 

“And then you’ll stay?” he asks. 

“Yes, then I’ll stay,” she promises. 

She makes her rounds faster than ever, luckily all patients are doing well. It gives her hope Bellamy will be okay. Normally she wouldn’t worry about the flu, but here without modern medicine, a flu could kill someone if their fever gets too high, and Bellamy’s fever was high.

When she returns to his tent, she brings with her more cold cloths to switch out with the old, fresh tea, and some raspberries she found in the woods the day before, in case he might be hungry. Clarke enters the tent, and this time Bellamy is awake, but delirious and a knot of worry twists in her stomach. He’s standing in front of the picture Clarke drew of his taped to the wall, staring at it in awe. 

“Clarke!” he yells, “Come here, Clarke!” he motions with his arms, directing her over to where he stands in front of the drawing. 

“Bellamy, you should lay down, you’re burning up still. Did you drink the tea?” she asks, worry in her voice. He’s way out of it.

“Clarke, you worry too much. I’m fine! See?” he says as he does several jumping jacks to prove his health. She would laugh at that if she weren’t so anxious.

“Bell, stop. You’re not fine, now please, lay down,” she commands. 

“But look!” he points at the drawing of him sitting by the fire.

“Clarke, this is so good, you’re so good. You can make art and grow plants and take care of sick people. You’re amazing,” he tells her, staring at her in awe. 

“Thanks, Bellamy,” she replies, flattered by the sincere compliment, but not taking her mind off the task at hand. 

“Clarke,” he turns and grabs her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks and forcing her to look at him, “You are amazing,” he repeats, glassy eyes starting into hers. He means it, she can tell. But he probably wouldn’t be doing this if he weren’t delirious. 

“Thank you,” she repeats. 

“And you’re taking care of me! You’re taking care of me when I’m sick!” he says in awe, and suddenly she can see tears forming in his eyes. She can’t help but laugh at him being overwhelmed, she’s never seen him cry before. 

“Yes, Bellamy. I am taking care of you. And in order for me to do that, you need to get into bed,” she tells him, voice level. 

“Oh, I need to get into bed?” he says suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows at her. 

“Yes, Bellamy. Get into bed,” she repeats, ignoring his flirting. 

At that, she physically grabs him by both of his arms and guides him over to the bed. Once in front of the bed, she pushes him in the chest so he sits on the bed. He’s still staring at her in awe with a smile on his face. She grabs him by the shoulders, and pushes his upper body down so that he’s lying down. Once finally in bed, he tells her she's amazing a few more times. She forces him to eat the raspberries and drink the tea and obliges with no complaint. Then she puts the rags on his forehead and neck and pulls his furs over his body, tucking him in like her mother used to do when she was sick. 

After he’s situated, she makes to leave the tent and retrieves some water for them both, but Bellamy grabs her by the arm. He looks at her with pleading eyes, and she knows he doesn’t want her to go. So he sighs and climbs into his bed next to him. Bellamy turns his body to face her and reaches out to touch her face. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says, in awe. Under any other circumstances, that would be enough for her to close the distance between them but she can’t now, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he definitely isn’t going to remember this. 

“Try to go to sleep, Bell,” she says, voice soft. 

“S’ pretty,” he mumbles, and follows her orders. Clarke stays in his tent for an hour or so to make sure he’s sleeping soundly. When she tries to get out of bed, he makes a groan of protest and reaches out to grab her by the waist, and pulls her to his chest. Clarke smiles to herself, enjoying the physical contact with Bellamy. She stays for a little while longer before extracting herself from his arms and leaving his tent. When she exits the tent, she finds Monty and Harper standing outside, as if they were listening. She looks at them quizzically and they pretend they were in the middle of doing something else. 

“We were just, uh, going to, uh, the woods,” Harper says, looking to Monty for back up. 

“The woods are that way,” she points in the opposite direction. 

“We, um, got lost,” Monty says. 

“Uh huh, got it,” she says knowingly.

“Okay, fine, we were spying!” Harper caves. 

“Harper!” Monty exclaims in exasperation. “Clarke it’s just that you were in there for a long time and we were wondering if you two were finally, you know,” he fills in. 

She decides to ignore the comment, not being able to process. “Bellamy has the flu, I was taking care of him,” she says. 

“For a long time though,” Harper points out. Clarke rolls her eyes. 

“He wouldn’t get into bed, I had to stay,” she says, leaving out the details of why he wouldn’t get into bed. 

“Can we help at all?” Monty asks.

“No, but thank you. I’m hoping he’ll sleep for a while and maybe with some luck his fever will break,” she informs them. They nod in understanding. 

Clarke goes to check on the other patients, another fever broke while she was gone and she’s relieved. She decided to go back to her own tent for a while and relax. She lays down on the bed and closes her eyes. 

After several minutes, Clarke can hear commotion outside and goes to investigate. 

“Clarke?!” Bellamy is shouting. He grabs a kid by the shirt and angrily asks, “WHERE IS CLARKE!?”

“I-I don’t know where she is,” the kid stammers.

“Bellamy, let him go right now!” Clarke yells from where she’s standing several feet away. At her voice, Bellamy lets go of the kid and sprints over to her, wrapping her in a giant bear hug.

“Clarke! Thank god!” he says, relief flooding his voice and tears springing into his eyes. Turns out sick Bellamy is a crier. “I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

“You didn’t think to check my tent?” she asks, voice muffled by his chest. 

“I was so worried, Clarke. You’re always getting into trouble,” he says. Great, he's still delirious. 

“Okay, big guy. Let’s get you back into bed,” he tells him, directing him towards his tent. Bellamy giggles. Actually giggles at what she says. “What?” she asks. 

“I am a big guy, Clarke,” he says, she rolls her eyes. 

Once back in the tent, she replaces his cold cloths and makes him drink several cups of water. Sighing, she lays down with him, knowing if she tries to leave again, he’ll just come looking for her. She’ll have to stay the night. She lays next to him and pulls out her sketchbook, deciding to kill time by drawing him, her favorite pastime. This time, Bellamy falls asleep quickly. Over the next few hours, Clarke draws Bellamy lying in bed, she draws one of just his curls splayed over the pillow, one of his hands (she really likes his hands), and one of just his eyes that she does from memory. She feels a little creepy, drawing individual body parts of his while he’s asleep, but she tells herself it’s good practice.

Her stomach starts to growl and she realizes she forgot to eat in the middle of taking care of Bellamy. This time she wakes him up to tell him she’s going to get some food, and that if he tries to get out of bed, she’s going to kick his ass. 

She makes her way over to the fire where everyone is sitting, eating and drinking moonshine. She fixes a plate for herself and sits down at the fire with a deep sigh. 

“Long day?” Murphy asks.

“Yes,” she tells them. “Bellamy is the worst patient ever. Pretty sure I’m going to have to force feed him some of this food when I get back.”

They laugh at her misfortune, but she doesn’t miss the pointed looks from Raven and Harper. She decides to ignore it in favor of stuffing her face. 

She listens, for a few moments, to their friendly banter and then stands to fix Bellamy a plate. She doesn’t put much on the plate, knowing he won’t have much of an appetite. Then she tells everyone good night and leaves to head back to Bellamy’s tent. Before she gets there, Miller runs up to her. 

“Thank you,” Miller says, a little out of breath. 

“For what?” Clarke replies, confused. 

“For taking care of him. He takes care of all of us, it’s time someone takes care of him too,” he says, sincerely. She remembers her conversation with Octavia and swallows a lump in her throat. She nods in response, not knowing what to say and Miller leaves her to finish her walk to Bellamy’s tent. 

“Finally!” Bellamy says, with a little bit of his usual snark. He must be starting to feel better, she thinks. 

“You need to eat something,” she tells him.

“Not hungry,” he says with a childish tone. 

“Too bad, you’re going to eat at least a few bites,” she tells him. “I’ll force feed you if I have to.”

“Sounds hot,” he replies. She rolls her eyes. 

“Eat,” she commands. 

“Okay, okay, no need to get all hot and bothered,” he says. So sick Bellamy is also a huge flirt. 

He accepts the plate and cautiously takes a few bites before asking, “Does the food always taste this bad?”

“Well, it’s never a five star meal, but I think you being sick might have something to do with it,” she says.

“Tastes like dirt,” he says around mouthfuls of food. She laughs at that and can’t help the feeling of fondness growing in her chest. 

After he’s cleaned his plate she makes him drink some water and then tucks him back into bed. 

“Can you stay?” he asks with his big brown eyes and she can’t say no. 

She climbs into the bed next to him and he immediately snuggles into her, wrapping his arms around her middle. She smiles to herself, content to be in Bellamy’s arms, sick or not. 

Before long, they both nod off and she dreams of a life where she and Bellamy live in a house like the one she grew up in and they’re both happy and safe. 

In the morning, she wakes to find that she’s the one with her arms wrapped around Bellamy and he’s snoring softly. She reaches around to feel his forehead and is pleased to find out that his fever broke overnight. She wraps her arms around him once more and sighs into his back, happy. 

She falls back asleep with the comfort of Bellamy pressed against her and when she wakes, Bellamy is standing across the room looking at her drawings from yesterday. She feels herself turning red in embarrassment. Even though she knows Bellamy thinks she’s a good artist, she always gets embarrassed when people see her art. Then she remembers what she drew yesterday. 

“Did you draw these?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” she says nervously. “You were asleep and wouldn’t let me leave, I had to do something.” She knows she’s being defensive, but she can’t help it. 

“They’re good, I’m flattered, Princess,” he says.

“I see you’re feeling better,” she says, ignoring her embarrassment.

“Healthy as a horse,” he replies, proud. She knows he isn’t healthy as a horse, but with his fever broken she’s not nearly as worried. 

“How much do you remember from yesterday?” she asks, cautious. 

“Not much, but I know you nursed me back to health,” he says. “Thank you, Clarke.”

“No problem,” she replies.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Princess,” he says, moving closer to her. 

“Oh, I think I do. Bellamy, you’re a terrible sick person,” she informs him. 

“Good thing I had a great doctor all worried about me,” he says suggestively. 

“I wasn’t worried, it was more like annoyance,” she teases. She was worried, but she won’t tell him that. 

“Oh? You don’t spend the night in medbay with the other patients,” he points out.

“You, um, made me stay,” she says. 

“Clarke, you and I both know no one can make you do anything you don’t want to do,” he says. “Just admit you were worried about me.” He smirks at her.

“Fine. I was worried about you, Bellamy. But only because you’re a terrible patient,” she says, feeling herself blush. 

“Well thanks for taking care of me,” he says.

“You already said that,” she points out.

“Well I mean it,” he tells her sincerely. 

“Well you’re welcome,” she says. “We should probably go eat something, you need to build up your strength.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor Griffin,” he obliges. 

They share a portion of raspberries and their friends fill Bellamy in on his antics of the day before, spending extra time on the scene where he frantically searches for Clarke. 

“Clarke! Clarke! Wherefore art thou, Clarke!” Miller mimics a sick Bellamy clumsily running through the camp. Bellamy flushes, remembering bits and pieces of that event. 

Bellamy leans into Clarke, so only she can hear when he says, “I think I’m feeling feverish, can you take me back to my tent?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at that. 

She laughs and decides she doesn't care if he’s lying (he obviously is) and goes with him back to his tent. 

They lay in bed and she wraps her arms around his middle once more, realizing she likes being the big spoon just as much as the little with Bellamy.


	8. The Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smut ahead.   
> Warning: this is the first time I've attempted to write smut.

They make a habit of sleeping in Bellamy’s tent together every night, and no one teases them about it, which surprises her. She finds that the nights are easier when spent with Bellamy. On the few nights she stays late in medbay tending to the sick, she falls into her own bed not wanting to wake Bellamy. It is on one of those nights that she finds herself trying to fall asleep in her own tent that she hears a terrible, blood curdling scream coming from Bellamy’s tent next to hers. She jumps out of bed and quickly rushes over to Bellamy’s tent, grabbing the long stick she keeps in her tent for protection. 

Wielding the giant stick, she quickly jumps into Bellamy’s tent, ready to attack whatever intruder is hurting him. But when she enters, she sees no one there, only Bellamy, still asleep and sweating profusely, thrashing in his bed. She drops the stick where she stands and strides over to his bed. 

“Bellamy,” she whispers, shaking his shoulder gently. He doesn’t wake and continues the violent thrashing. 

“Bellamy!” she says louder this time, grabbing his face with her hands. He wakes with a jolt and sits up, panting. He looks at her with wild eyes and grabs her by the shoulders, pulling her into a hug. He holds her there for a moment and breathes into her hair until his breathing is under control. 

“Shh, Bellamy. It’s okay, you’re safe. I’m here, it was just a dream,” she soothes. Once his breathing returns to normal he pulls back from their embrace. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says. 

“I wasn’t asleep,” she tells him. “I was trying to, but then I heard you and-”

He cuts her off by gently cupping her cheeks, she freezes what she was saying. His eyes are intense and starting straight at her, seemingly asking for permission. Clarke nods at him and leans in, closing the distance between them. When their lips meet, it’s like nothing Clarke has ever experienced in her life. It’s electricity. She can feel her whole body thrumming, alive. Bellamy deepens the kiss, moving one hand from her face and wrapping it around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She tangles both of her hands into his hair and sighs into his mouth. Bellamy pulls back first, pressing their foreheads together. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers, their breath mingling in the space between them. 

“I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time,” she says with a small smile. 

He closes the distance between them once more and Clarke relishes in the feeling of their lips moving together, seemingly having a mind of their own. 

“Bad dream?” she asks when they finally pull apart.

“Yeah,” he replies. “We were in the woods together looking for some plant you needed and a grounder took you, when I found you,” he takes a sharp breath, “When I found you...I was too late and-” she cuts him off with another kiss, this time short and sweet.  
“I’m right here. Safe and sound,” she kisses him once more. “It was just a dream, Bell. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” is his only reply and he leans in to kiss her once more. After a moment the kiss grows more heated, tongues sliding and teeth crashing together and Clarke’s toes curl. She loves kissing Bellamy, she thinks. She could do it all day, a feeling she never experienced with Finn. She has never understood all the commotion about kissing, she's never minded it, but it never did anything for her really. But right now, wrapped in Bellamy’s arms with his lips on hers and his arms wrapped around her, she understands. She can feel something igniting within her and she wishes she could do this forever. She experimentally bites down on his lower lip and she hears him moan into her mouth. 

It’s Bellamy who pulls back first, breathless, “Slow down, Princess. Let me take you on a date first,” he chuckles.

“You never took those other girls out on a date first,” she replies.

“Thats, true,” he tells her. “But I didn’t care about them the way I care about you,” he goes on. “And they didn’t nurse me back to health,” he says. 

“I maintain that you would have killed yourself if I hadn’t been there,” she informs him, matter of fact. 

“Good thing you were, then,” he replies and kisses her once more. 

“Good thing,” she repeats in between kisses. 

“I’m serious, I want to do this right. Let me take you on a date tomorrow,” he tells her, rather than asking. 

“Oh? What are we going to do on this date?” she asks.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I have a few ideas,” he tells her. 

“Count me in, then,” she says as she climbs into his bed per their usual routine. 

They kiss for a while longer, lips sliding together and Clarke has to rub her thighs together for some friction. She can feel he’s hard in his sleep pants, which are just the softest pair of trousers he owns. She reaches to touch, but he stops her. 

“Princess, I’m going to have to kick you out if you do that again, I told you. Date first,” he says through clenched teeth. 

“Okay, okay. Fine, we’ll keep it PG-13,” she gives in. She’s never been one to be eager for sex. Like with kissing, she never got much out of it and mostly just did it because she felt like she was supposed to. But she wants Bellamy, badly, and it will take some measure of strength to control herself tonight. 

“Huh?” he asks, not understanding her reference to the outdated rating system.

“Nevermind,” she says and she pulls him in for another heated kiss. 

They kiss and kiss, releasing everything they’ve been holding back for the last several months, a mess of tangled limbs, and soon she forgets all about Finn and her life back in 2020.

They fall asleep tangled together with Bellamy’s warm even breath against the back of her neck and his strong arms wrapped around her middle. She feels safe, and cared for in a way she’s never experienced and she allows a few tears of joy to fall down her cheek and onto the pillow. 

In the morning, Bellamy is still there. Real and warm and solid where her head rests on his chest. She has one arm slung over his abdomen and the other is bunched up at her side. She sighs, smiling to herself. She’s happier than she’s ever been, she thinks to herself. She snuggles into his chest and she can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong. 

He shifts underneath her and when she looks up to his face, he’s waking up. 

“You look good when you wake up,” she tells him, “I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”

“Mmm, you too,” he says, stretching his arms in the air. He pauses thoughtfully before asking, “How long?” 

“How long what?” she asks, confused. 

“How long have you, um, wanted this?” he asks, a blush rising up his neck.

“How long for you?” she asks, avoiding the question. To tell the truth, she’s wanted Bellamy since the first moment they met, when he saved her from the grounders. 

“I asked you first,” he teases. 

“Um, I don’t know really,” she says, “Probably the first day, when you saved me.”

“Ah, so the knight in shining armor bit is what does it for you, huh?” he teases 

“As long as you’re the knight in shining armor, I guess so,” she replies. “But don’t go getting this huge ego-” he cuts her off with a kiss, slow and languid. They take their time kissing and exploring each other with their mouths. Clarke learns that he really likes it when she bites down on his lip, it earns her a moan every time. 

“You never told me when you first wanted me,” she points out.

“The first moment I met you,” he says simply. 

“So damsel in distress does it for you, then?” she teases, recalling what he said to her earlier. 

“A damsel who wants to chew me out for saving her? Absolutely,” he smiles at her and she pulls him down for another kiss, resisting the urge to grind herself on his leg. What is he doing to her? 

“So where are you taking me on our date?” she asks.

“Why don’t you go take care of the patients, tend to your garden, do what you would normally do, and let me worry about the date,” he tells her. “I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

She eyes him suspiciously, but follows his suggestion, knowing she does have things to do today besides lay in bed with Bellamy. 

She slips out of his tent and back into her own, quickly changing into her clothes. She makes her rounds with the patients and waters her garden and before she knows it she’s done with her chores for the morning. She decides to go see what everyone else is up to while she waits for Bellamy. She has to keep herself busy or she gets carried away thinking of Bellamy and his lips and his hands and what they might do to her later. 

She’s impossibly horny from all the making out and she considers touching herself, thinking if she finds some release she might be able to get Bellamy off her mind. She decides against it, figuring if they are going to have sex later, she doesn’t want to ruin it. 

So instead she finds Murphy and Raven washing their clothes and she asks if she can join them. She hurries to her tent to gather her dirty clothes and joins them in scrubbing their clothes on the makeshift washboard Clarke made. In her second week there, she realized they had no way to wash their clothes besides in the river. So she fastened some sticks to a piece of scrap metal to make a washboard. She uses some of the lavender and mint and lets it steep in the water, hoping it will help with the smell. The three of them scrub their clothes in silence, scrubbing, rinsing, wringing, and repeating. 

“So, uh, Clarke,” Murphy starts. “I can’t help but notice you and a certain person, who shall remain nameless, have been sharing a tent lately. Care to elaborate?”

She knows everyone has probably noticed how she spends her nights with him, but thankfully no one has mentioned it to her until now. Of course it would be Murphy who finally broaches the topic. Ravens eyes widen and she looks to Clarke to hear her response.

“Uh, yeah. But we, uh, haven’t done anything,” she tells them. Might as well be honest. “He’s planning a date for us today though,” it feels good to be able to share these things with someone. If she were home, she would be telling Wells or probably even her mother about Bellamy.

“A date?!” Raven asks, bewildered. “Well I’ll be damned. Bellamy Blake on a date. I never thought I’d see the day,” she scoffs. 

That’s all they really have to say about it. But she suspects one of them told Harper because before long, Harper appears and asks her if she can help her get ready for her date. 

“Sure, Harper,” Clarke says and lets the girl lead her into her own tent where she sorts through her clothes, searching for something in particular. 

“Got it!” Harper exclaims, holding up a light blue dress. She holds it up to Clarke, examining how it might fit. “It might be a little tight in the,” she gestures to Clarke’s chest. Clarke has always had that problem. Plenty of shirts fit her everywhere except her chest. “Try it on!” Harper tells her. 

Clarke tries it on and it fits surprisingly well. It is a little tight on her chest, but it works. It’s low cut, so it just contributes to the cleavage situation, and she doesn’t think Bellamy will mind. Harper claps her hands together in delight. 

“Wait I have an idea!” Harper says. Before Clarke can respond, the girl dashes out of the tent, returning several minutes later with various flowers from her garden. Harper makes quick work of tying them together to make her a flower crown and placing it on her head. “Monty taught me how to do that,” she says with a blush. Good to know that flower crowns survive the apocalypse, she thinks. 

“You and Monty, are you....you know?” Clarke asks. 

“Are we together? Yeah, we are,” Harper gushes. “He’s never taken me on a date though, Bellamy is going to set the bar high tonight.”

“You two are good together,” Clarke says, appreciative of the girl's work in getting her ready for the date. “You should ask him on a date, Harper!” Clarke says with excitement. 

“You know what? I think I will,” Harper says with determination and makes to leave the tent, Clarke assumess on her way to ask Monty out. She smiles to herself. 

Clarke heads over to where Miller, of all people, is standing around the fire preparing lunch. Clarke makes to grab some food, feeling hungry. Before she puts some of the meat on her plate, Bellamy stops her, “Wait!”  
“What? I’m hungry,” she tells him. 

“Here, come with me,” he says. She hands her plate over to Miller with an apologetic smile and follows Bellamy into the woods, laughing at herself. Frolicking through the woods with a boy. What a cliche. 

“Bell, where are we going?” she says though her laughter. 

“You’ll see, Princess. You’ll see,” is his reply. 

Bellamy stops suddenly and turns to her, causing her to stop as well. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he says sincerely. 

“Oh this old thing?” she gestures to the dress. “Harper helped me get ready.”

He kisses her once, and grabs her by the hand to lead her forward. They step into a clearing, there’s a lake nearby and the field is dotted with hundreds of tiny wildflowers. In the center of the field is a picnic, or what she assumes is a picnic. There’s a huge display of fruits and some of the bread Monty makes everyday. There’s a tiny bottle of moonshine and two cups. 

“Bellamy, you didn’t have to do all of this,” she tells him, tears springing to her eyes. 

“I know, but I wanted to. You deserve this and so much more than I can ever give you, Clarke,” he says, a little embarrassed. 

“I think you are more than enough for me,” she says standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Can we eat now, I’m starving,” she says.

They sit on the blanket he laid down for them and eat, feeding each other wild strawberries and raspberries and drinking some of the moonshine. 

“I think this may be the best date I’ve ever been on,” she tells him. 

He smiles proudly, “Good. You want to know a secret?” he asks. 

“Ooh, a secret? Yes, please!” she laughs.

“This is my first date. Ever,” he says seriously. 

“What?! How have you never been on a date before, look at yourself!” she says, bewildered.

“I didn’t say I’ve been living life as a monk,” he winks. “I just, I’ve never met anyone I’ve wanted to take on a real date before,” he confesses. 

“But you wanted to take me on a date?” she asks, looking at him through her lashes. 

“Since the day I met you,” he replies simply, smiling at her. 

“Well I’m flattered, Bellamy Blake,” she says. 

“Hey, want to go for a swim?” he asks.

“Sure!” she replies. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!” she yells in a singsong voice. She quickly rids herself of her dress, leaving her paties and bra on. She takes off toward the water, leaving Bellamy in the dust, stunned by her lack of clothes. Clarke does a cannonball as she jumps in the water. “Come on, the water’s fine!” 

Bellamy makes a show of removing his shirt and pants, and he walks slowly over to the water. “Clarke, I actually, um, don’t know how to swim,” he tells her. In response, she grabs him by the arm and pulls him in the water with her. 

“Don’t worry, I was the captain of the swim team. It’s my turn to save you, anyways,” she grins at him. “Besides, it’s not that deep, I’m pretty sure you can just stand,” she tells him. 

Bellamy stands and upon realizing he won’t actually have to swim, splashes Clarke with a handful of water. “That’s for pulling me in,” he says with finality. 

“Oh you wanna play that game? I can play dirty too,” she announces. Before long they are deeply involved in a heated splash war with no clear winner. When they tire of swimming, they go to lay on the grass, side by side, staring up at the sky. Bellamy props himself up on one elbow to look at Clarke, then he leans down and captures her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. They kiss for a while, tanging their hands in each other’s hair and exploring each other’s bodies, having not put their clothes on after getting out of the water. Bellamy runs his hand up her leg and over her stomach, stopping before he gets to her breasts. In response, she grabs his hand where it rests on her stomach and places it on her breast, watching as his eyes widen in surprise. He gives it a gentle squeeze and she sits up momentarily to remove her bra, freeing her breasts. Bellamy’s eyes dilate more than she thought possible and he captures her lips in another kiss as he palms her breasts. 

Slowly he makes his way down, kissing behind her ear, then down her neck. He spends some time there, probably leaving a hickey but she’s too caught up to care. She kind of gets a thrill thinking the others will see it and know she’s finally his. Eventually he makes his way down her chest and takes a nipple into his mouth, gently pinching the other with his hand. She can feel the heat growing in her belly and she reaches down to touch herself, but Bellamy swats her hand away. 

“Uh uh, that’s my job. You just sit back, relax, and enjoy,” he says, voice lower than she’s ever heard it before. 

“Bellamy, please,” she begs him. She needs him to touch her, needs his hands.

“Please, what?” he asks, teasing her. He knows exactly what she wants.

“Your hands, Bell. Please,” she says through clenched teeth. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says as he palms her through her panties. Clarke reaches down to remove them, and then she’s lying completely naked in the grass. Bellamy kisses his way down her belly, stopping when he gets where she really wants him. Instead he moves to kiss her thighs. This is the best kind of torture, she thinks. This is what it’s all about. This is what she was missing with Finn. He finally flicks his tongue up and down her slit, making her shiver with his gentle touch. He laps up all the wetness that has gathered there and she thinks she might come already, but she holds back. He finds her clit and licks her precisely where she wants it, applying just enough pressure to tease her, but not give her what she wants. She grabs his head and pushes him down harder onto her, searching for more. 

“More, Bell. Please,” she begs, and when she hears her voice she barely recognizes it, ragged and deeper than usual. 

He obliges and uses one of his fingers to swirl around her entrance before pushing it in and Clarke thinks she can see time and space in that instant. She’s thought endlessly about Bellamy’s hands and what he could do with them. He starts to move his fingers in and out, slow at first and then faster, then slow again. He’s teasing her, she thinks.

His fingers are moving rhythmically and his tongue is still focused on her clit, sucking and pulling and nipping and she thinks she’s going to lose her mind. When he adds a second finger she can’t help but pull at his hair in ecstasy as she feels herself getting closer and closer to the edge. Bellamy must be able to tell, because he starts pumping his fingers faster and sucking on her clit harder. She looks down at Bellamy between her legs and that’s what does it for her. She comes harder than she ever has in her life and it takes her a moment to come back to her body. The aftershocks still coming in random waves.

Bellamy slides up her body and kisses her, wet and dirty and she can taste herself on his tongue. She moans into the kiss and flips him over so he’s the one laying on his back. She kisses him and kisses him, unable to believe this beautiful man underneath her is really hers. She slides down his body and pulls his hard cock from his boxers. Her eyes widened. She remembers when he was delirious with fever and told her he was a big guy with a suggestive tone, and he was right. She thought he was just saying that the way most guys do, but what she didn’t know was that he wasn’t kidding. 

“Can I?” she asks, though she knows the answer. He nods in response and she sees his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

Clarke licks the tip experimentally, flicking her tongue over the tip, already dripping with precum. He’s impossibly hard and she knows it must be uncomfortable. She slides her tongue along the length, not taking the whole thing yet. She wants to tease him the way he teased her. She licks a stripe from the base all the way up to the top and swirls her tongue around the tip, and Bellamy lets out a strangled groan. Finally, she decides to have pity on him and takes his cock in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to stroke what she can’t reach. She tries to take the whole thing in her throat but ends up gagging a bit. Bellamy has to grab her chin and lift it up to look in her eyes as he warns her, “If you try that again, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”

“Bellamy, I need you,” she says, taking the opportunity to make her move. She’s never wanted anyone like this, especially not Finn. She feels like she’s going to implode if she doesn’t get him inside her like, now. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. Is he really asking her that?

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” she says confidently, kissing him sweetly. And then she remembers they don’t have any condoms. She took birth control back in her own time, but now she suspects she’ll have to rely on the pull out method. Not always super effective, she knows, but she trusts Bellamy. “You don’t happen to have a condom do you?” she tries. 

“I’ve no idea what that is,” he informs her. 

“Okay whatever,” she says and climbs on top of him, lining herself up with him. When she finally sinks down onto him, she’s thankful for how wet she is because he really is huge. If she weren’t so turned on, she worries she might not have been able to fit him. But he does fit and the stretch feels so good, she moves experimentally up and down a few times before she has to brace her hands on either side of his head. He’s hitting her in just the right spot and she thinks she might fall apart again, but he flips her on her back and pushes inside her again. He moves languidly and his hand reaches down to play with her clit while he fucks her, slow and hard. 

Clarke reaches up to grab his face and pulls him down in a messy kiss, biting down on his lip like she knows he likes and he growls from deep in his throat. He starts to fuck her faster after that, leaning low and whispering in her ear, “Come for me, Clarke,” and that’s what does it for her this time. Him whispering her name into her ear, telling her to come. Her second orgasm hits her harder than the first and she’s pretty sure she blacks out for a few seconds because one second she’s screaming his name and the next, Bellamy has pulled out of her and is coming on her stomach. 

He collapses next to her on the grass and neither can speak for a few minutes, both trying to catch their breath. She makes a mental note to start tracking her period because she wants more than anything to feel Bellamy come inside her. 

“Well that was….” he starts to say.

“Amazing,” she finishes for him. They kiss for a while longer before jumping back into the lake to wash off. They lay in the grass naked watching the clouds move across the sky until the sun starts to set and their stomachs start to growl. 

They dress slowly, and return to camp where everyone is waiting for them around the fire. Murphy wolf whistles at them and Bellamy smacks him in the back of the head. No one comments on how long they’ve been gone, but she catches them all eyeing them when they aren’t looking. They eat their dinner and head back to Bellamy’s tent where they kiss and fuck and snuggle for the the rest of the night until exhustion takes them. 

Clarke dreams of introducing Bellamy to her parents. Her dad is usually still alive in her dreams and they get along. She knows her father would love Bellamy.


	9. A Revelation

The next few months go by in a blur. She spends the night in Bellamy’s tent nearly every night. On the nights she works late in medbay, she goes back to her own tent, not wanting to wake Bellamy up, but he usually finds his way in there in the middle of the night anyway. When she sleeps with him, she finds she doesn’t have any nightmares of home and his nightmares appear to cease as well. 

Sex with Bellamy only gets better and better. He learns her body and she his, knowing how to make each other come and how to draw it out in the most delicious way. 

“Bell, Bell, Bell,” Clarke chants as he fucks into her one lazy morning. 

“Come for me, Princess,” he says, reaching between them and rubbing her clit, hard and fast, just how she likes it. 

“Bellamy, fuck,” she pants as she clenches down on his cock as she comes. She feels her eyes roll back into her head as she continues rhymically clenching.

“Clarke,” he groans as he spills himself into her. 

He rolls off of her and she leans over and kisses him, sweet and dirty as they both come down from their high. 

They dress and exit the tent, heading over to the fire where everyone is gathered. Word travels fast around camp and my now, everyone knows Clarke and Bellamy are together. They take a seat next to each other and eat their eggs in peace. Murphy returned one day with a chicken he found near the farmlands, eager to roast it on the spit. Clarke insisted she take him back to where he found the chicken. She ended up finding 3 more hens to bring back to camp, allowing them to add eggs to the menu. Always a good idea to have extra protein on hand, especially for the coming winter months when meat may be scarce. 

Bellamy and Miller have been working during the day to build a chicken coop to house the chickens and protect them from the weather and larger prey. Everyone had thought she was crazy for wanting to keep the chickens and not use them for meat, but after they produced several dozen eggs in the span of a week, they resigned and admitted she was right. Clarke has been enjoying preparing the eggs in various ways for them to try. She makes them scrambled eggs, sunny side up, over easy, and her favorite, poached. She even adds some on top of the roasted veggies from her garden for an extra dose of protein and everyone loves it. She supposes growing up in space never allowed for fresh produce and she’s glad to share her experiences with them. 

“Octavia’s coming,” Bellamy informs her one morning by the fire.

“Oh, that’s good, right?” Clarke asks tentatively. 

“She’s bringing Lincoln,” he says solemnly. 

“Oh,” she replies. “You know, you could try to, oh I don’t know, get to know him? Talk to him?” she tries. 

“Clarke, if I could kill him without pissing Octavia off, I would. That’s out of the question,” he says. Clarke stifles her laugh. He can be so stubborn. 

“Bellamy, she’s your sister, and she loves you. Do you want Octavia to be happy?” she asks. 

“Of course I want her to be happy,” he says, knowing where this is going. 

“Then you should try to get along with Lincoln,” she says. “That would make her so happy.” She’s using her best encouraging voice, hoping it gets through to him. 

“No,” is his reply. Simple, straight to the point. 

“Fine, but I’m going to try, and you’ll see he’s not a bad guy,” she says defiant. 

“Fine,” he says, looking at his feet.

“Bellamy, please. Do this for me?” she pleads, giving him her best puppy dog eyes, a last ditch effort.

“Clarke, drop it. I’ll tolerate him, and I won’t kill him, but I’m not going to get along with him and that’s that. Now drop it,” he says, getting frustrated. Talking about this with him always gets him worked up, but it seems she’s the only one who can bring it up to him without him stomping off to punch a tree. 

“Okay, okay,” she says and she drops it.

“Well, if it isn’t my big brother!” Octavia says as she appears behind them, wrapping her arms around Bellamy’s shoulders behind, giving him a hug. Clarke didn’t know she was coming so early. 

“Hey, O,” is his greeting, “Lincoln,” he says to the man. That’s a start, Clarke thinks. 

“Hey, Clarke!” Octavia says, walking past Bellamy and pulling Clarke into a hug. “I’m glad you’re still here,” she tells her with a smile and Clarke smiles back. 

Bellamy stands and says, “I, uh, have to go. Miller and I are going to hunt for dinner tonight,” he leans down to kiss Clarke. “See you later, O,” he says and walks back to his tent without another word.

“Octavia, I’m sorry. I tried to get him to spend time with the two of you, but um, he has other plans,” Clarke says to the two people sitting across from her. 

“Thanks for trying,” Octavia says. “Wait, have you two met yet?”

“I don’t think so! Hi, I’m Clarke!” she reaches out to shake Lincoln's hand and he only looks at it in confusion. Slowly she retreats her hand and wipes her palms on her pants. 

“Nice to meet you, Clarke. Are you from space, too?” Lincoln asks. It’s the first time he’s spoken and his deep voice surprises her. 

“Um, no, I sort of just found this place,” she gestures to camp. 

“She looooooooves, Bellamy, right Clarke” Octavia teases. Clarke tries to hide her blush.

“So, where did you come from?” he asks. Clarke pauses. No one really ever questioned her about where she came from and the details, she doesn’t really have a lie ready. 

“Oh, you know, around. My family and I, we moved around a lot. Not really from any one place,” she tries. Octavia’s eyes narrow but Lincoln remains stoic. 

“Who are your parents? I may know them, my family also traveled a lot when I was growing up,” he asks her, voice even. 

“I, uh, my dad died when I was 16 and my mom, um, she’s from, um, nowhere in particular,” Clarke lies. She’s always been a bad liar. She chastises herself for not thinking of a better lie beforehand. No one here really ever questioned her past her story of getting separated from her family. They all just got along so well and after she proved herself an ally by saving Jasper, it was never discussed again. She’s told Bellamy about her family and Wells, but she’s been able to dodge around any details that might incriminate her and force her to admit she’s from another time. 

Lincoln and Octavia though, they’re on to her. She gets the feeling that they both know enough about the lands outside of camp to see through any lie she might come up with and Clarke is starting to panic. 

“Clarke?” Octavia asks, voice kind and understanding. She’s going to have to tell them the truth. 

“Okay, listen. I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won’t tell Bellamy, okay?” Clarke begs them.

“I don’t know if I can promise you that, Clarke. He’s my brother,” Octavia says, eyes wary. 

“It’s nothing bad,” she promises, “I just want to be the one to tell him, okay?”

Octavia’s eyes narrow even more, waiting for Clarke to elaborate. 

“Okay, I know this sounds crazy, and I know you probably won’t believe me. But Octavia, I swear to you, I’m telling you the truth,” Clarke says, feeling herself getting flustered. 

“Try me,” Octavia says, unyielding.

“Okay, um, I don’t know where to start,” she looks to Octavia and Lincoln for support, neither speak a word. 

“Okay, here goes nothing. The truth is, I was born in the year 2002,” she pauses for a breath and looks to Octavia and Lincoln. Their eyes widen in surprise, but they say nothing, encouraging her to go on. 

“I was in the woods with my friend and I went to go on a hike by myself. I saw these women dancing around a circle of stones and when they left I got closer to draw a flower growing from the largest stone in the middle. Then this buzzing started and the wind was blowing and I started to feel like I was going to faint, so I grabbed onto the stone to steady myself. I passed out and when I woke up, I was captured. They thought I was one of you and they used me as bait. Bellamy, Raven, and Miller came to save me, thinking I was one of you,” she stops to look at them. Thankfully, they don’t look angry. 

“I know the stones,” Lincoln says. Octavia turns to him, surprised. “There is a legend about the stones, that they can transport a person to a different place. There is a woman in my village who says she has seen someone go through them,” he says. 

“What else do you know about them?” Clarke asks.

“The woman says that to travel through them, you must have a gem. That is the key,” he tells her and she remembers the ruby on her father’s watch. The ruby had been there the day she disappeared and is now missing. She holds her wrist out to show them the watch.

“This watch, there was a ruby in the center before and it went missing,” she tells them. Octavia hasn’t said a word, still in shock. “I noticed it was gone when I got here, but I didn’t realize…” she trails off. 

“Are you going to go back?” Octavia asks. 

“I-I didn’t think I could go back. I tried once, and nothing happened,” she says, trying to process all of this new information. Nothing happened because she didn’t have a gem, she realizes. 

“You have to tell Bellamy,” Octavia says solemnly. 

“I know, I know,” Clarke feels tears spring to her eyes. “I just don’t, I don’t know how to tell him,” she stammers, wiping the tears from her cheeks. 

“Just tell him, the way you told us,” Octavia tells her encouragingly.

“Do you think he’ll believe me?” Clarke asks.

“Hard to say. We’ve seen our share of crazy over the years. Might as well add time travel to the mix,” Octavia snarks. 

Clarke gulps. She knows Octavia is right, and she’s been thinking about how to tell Bellamy for the last week. Ever since her mother’s birthday. She’s been keeping track of the days since she left, and if she’s accurate in her time keeping, her mother’s birthday was last Wednesday. She wished she could share more of her memories from home with him, but most of them have too much to do with things she cannot explain without incriminating herself. She’s never lied to him, even from the first day they met. She told him she was with her boyfriend in the woods, she told him Finn is dead (which is admittedly half true, he is dead at this time), she told him about her father and Wells. She just left out some important details. Regardless, she’s been feeling guilty and it’s been weighing on her conscious heavily in the last week. 

She knows Octavia is right, and she does want to tell Bellamy the truth. But knowing that she could go back with the help of a gem...complicates the situation. Does she even want to go back? She sure does miss running water and ibuprofen. She misses her bed and her phone and her TV and all the conveniences her old life had to offer. 

She misses Wells everyday and thinks about telling her mom about Bellamy every night. But in order to tell her mom about Bellamy, she would have to give him up. Over the last several months, she’s built a life here that she’s come to love. She has her garden, her chickens, friends who would do anything for her, and Bellamy, who she is quickly falling in love with. 

“Okay, I’m going to tell him. I’ll tell him tonight, when he comes back and after dinner,” she says, making up her mind. She thinks Bellamy will believe her, he trusts her. And she thinks he’s falling in love with her too. 

“Might want to make sure he has a few glasses of Monty’s moonshine first,” Octavia winks. 

Clarke stands, wanting to get out of the situation and makes up an excuse about needing to water her plants. 

Once back in her own tent, Clarke takes a deep shuddering breath. She feels like the world is spinning and she’s losing her balance. She plops onto her bed and goes over a list of things she wants to say to Bellamy, rehearsing her speech in her mind. She needs to make sure that Bellamy believes her. Nothing would be worse than him not believing her and thinking she’s crazy. 

“Clarke!” she hears Bellamy shout from outside of her tent, interrupting her speech the fourth time she’s run through it. He pulls back the flap of her tent and enters, holding a small bag. “Clarke, you’re never going to believe what we found today!” he’s practically bouncing with excitement. “Wait, what’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, “Nothing, what did you find?” she asks, eager to know. 

He opens the bag for her to see, and she leans forward on her toes to look inside. Her jaw nearly drops to the floor. It’s a whole bag of various gems. Sparkling emeralds and sapphires and rubies. She feels like she’s going to vomit. 

“Can you believe it? Miller found an old bunker while we were out hunting. It had guns and ammo and some old food,” he pauses, glancing at her. “And these. It was like Christmas morning, Clarke. You should have been there.” she nods, trying to process. 

“Bellamy, that’s great” she forces a smile at him, knowing he wants her to share in his excitement. 

“Maybe I can make a ring for you out of one of these,” he says, wiggling his eyebrow at her, and leans over to kiss her on the lips, sweet and chaste. Clarke, however, grabs him by the face and pulls him to her for another kiss. She swirls her tongue into his mouth and runs it along his teeth, biting down on his bottom lip. He matches her passion in strides, reaching behind her to grab her ass and squeezing. She hikes her leg up so she can wrap it around his hip.

“Bell, I need you,” she pants in between kisses.

“I’m right here, Princess. Not going anywhere,” he promises, and she feels a tear spill over onto her cheek. She pulls him to her for another kiss. They kiss for a long time, eventually moving to the bed and undressing each other one article of clothing at a time. 

“Tell me what you need,” he says.

“I need you inside me, Bell,” she begs him, the tears falling freely. 

“Wait, are you crying? Clarke, are you okay?” he asks concern dripping from every word. 

“Bellamy, I love you,” she says, the tears falling faster now. It feels good to say it, she’s never said it to anyone before because she’s never meant it. But she means it now, she loves him so much, she’s never meant anyone who fits with her the way Bellamy does, like they’re two pieces of the same puzzle. 

At that, Bellamy wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him as she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him with everything she has. She tries to tell him she loves him with every flick of her tongue. Bellamy pulls back and cups her cheeks with both hands, using his thumb to wipe the tears away. 

“I love you so much,” he tells her and pulls her in for another crushing kiss. 

“I need you, Bellamy,” she tells him.

He lines himself up, both knowing she just needs the feeling of being completely filled by him. It’s an intoxicating, addicting feeling, having Bellamy inside of her. She never realized what it meant to make love with someone until she met Bellamy. She always hated the phrase ‘making love’ she much preferred to call by the more clinical term of sex, but that is the only way to describe what her and Bellamy do, right now more than ever. 

When he finally pushes inside they both let out a low moan as he bottoms out. He wastes no time giving her what she wants, thrusting in and out of her at a rapid pace as she screams out his name. They’re face to face, breathing the same air, eyes locked and it’s the most intense experience of her whole life. Everything she feels, sees, and smells is Bellamy and that's how she wants it to stay forever. She never wants to lose this. Clarke fears if she leaves, she’ll never find anything that could even come close to this. 

Bellamy slows down his thrusts, wanting to draw it out a little longer as he kisses her, wet and sloppy, all teeth and tongue. When he pulls back to look in her eyes, her forehead covered in a light sheen of sweat, he brushes the hair from her face and says, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoes back, leaning up for a kiss. Bellamy starts to pick up the pace again and he reaches a hand between them to rub at her clit, mouths still attached. “I’m gonna come, Bell,” she tells him, voice ragged. 

“Clarke,” he says through ragged breaths.

“Bellamy,” she pants and when she falls over the edge. Bellamy attaches his mouth to hers, swallowing her moans and coming inside of her as she clenches around him. 

They lay in her bed, a tangled mess of sweaty limbs as their breathing returns to normal.

“You love me,” Bellamy says in amazement, wonder in his eyes. 

“And you love me,” she says, a little amazed herself.


	10. A Confession

Later that night, everyone is sitting around the bonfire drinking moonshine and eating hard boiled eggs, a delicacy that Clarke was surprised to find out is a camp favorite. Clarke harvested some potatoes from her garden earlier and decided to make fried potatoes with some of the rosemary she’s been drying on a clothesline. She had intended to make fried eggs and place them on top of the potatoes, but everyone seemed to unanimously decide on hard boiled. So that’s what they’re having, hard boiled eggs and fried potatoes. Not a traditional dinner, but it fills their bellies and everyone seems to love it. Clarke is proud of her garden and what she has been able to provide for her friends. 

Octavia catches her eye, asking her a silent question. Clarke shakes her head no in response and Octavia’s eyes narrow. She turns to see Bellamy, chuckling by the fireside, moonshine in hand. 

Everyone is having a great time, especially Bellamy. Still riding the high from finding the guns and gems, and their confessions to each other. Her friends laugh and drink and swap stories about their days. Harper sits in Monty’s lap and Raven and Murphy aren’t arguing for once. It’s a good night, she thinks. Clarke’s stomach turns as she thinks about how she’s going to tell Bellamy tonight. He seems to be in a good mood, she doesn’t want to ruin it. He even makes light conversation with Lincoln without getting angry. It may work in her favor if he’s in a good mood. 

Slowly her friends stagger back to their own tents, leaving just Bellamy and Clarke alone by the fire. Her favorite place to be with him. There’s something magical about a fire, she’s always loved to study the flames and how they dance around. 

“You’re quiet tonight,” Bellamy points out. “Something on your mind? Did I freak you out about the ring thing? Because I don’t have to do that, it was just a stupid idea I had,” he rambles. She leans into him and kisses him on the cheek.

“No, I love that idea,” she tells him. It’s true. 

“Then, what?” he asks, concerned. He angles his body towards her, ready to listen to what she has to say. 

“Bellamy, I have to tell you something,” she says, wringing her hands. 

“You can tell me anything,” he assures her. 

She pauses, not knowing how to continue. She's rehearsed what she would say over and over but sitting in front of him, all of that flies out of her head. He has that effect on her. 

“I love you so much, Bellamy. You know that right?” she asks, feeling her nose tingle, a sure sign she’s going to start crying with no hopes of stopping it.

“Clarke, what is this about? I’m getting worried,” he says.

“I want to tell you about...about where I came from,” she says. 

“Okay…” he motions for her to continue. 

“I just want to say first that I know how this sounds. But Bellamy, please, please, believe me, I’m telling you the complete truth. And I’m telling you because I want you to know and for no other reason. I want to be honest, I want you to know everything about me. And there’s something pretty big that I haven’t told you,” she tells him. She can feel herself turning red. 

“Okay, I’m officially worried. Clarke, you can tell me anything. I won’t be mad,” he says, rubbing small circles on her arms. 

“I was born in the year 2002,” she blurts out, and his jaw drops to the floor in the same manner Octavia’s had when she told her. She takes his silence as a sign to continue. “I was in the woods in 2020, drawing a circle of stones I found the day before. There was this buzzing and the wind started to blow and I started to feel dizzy so I reached out to steady myself on the largest rock, and I passed out. When I woke up, I tried to go back to the cabin I was staying in but it wasn’t there. Not long after that the grounders found me and thought I was one of you. Bellamy, I was so confused. I still didn’t realize, you know, what had happened. Then you found me,”

“And you asked me what year it was,” he says, connecting the dots. 

“Yes!” she says, feeling relieved he seems to be understanding. His face shows no emotion, deep in thought. She wishes she could read his mind as she sees the gears turning. 

“Have you tried going back?” he asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“Yes,” she says, looking down at her feet. “It didn’t work,” she tells him. He still shows no sign of how he’s feeling. 

“It didn’t work?” he repeats. 

“No. Do you remember that time we were looking for yarrow and the grounders caught me? When I found the yarrow, I saw the stones. So I ran over and I touched them, but nothing happened,” she says in a hurry. Bellamy nods once more. She isn’t sure if she should tell him this next part, but she wants to be totally honest. No more secrets. “It didn’t work because I didn’t have a gem,” she sticks her arms out so he can see her watch. “This used to have a ruby in it, but when I got here, it was gone,” she says.

“So, to go back home...you would need gems,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small bag of varying gems. “Like these?” he asks. Clarke thinks she sees his hands trembling. She nods.

Bellamy is silent for a long time, lost in his thoughts. His face gives no sign of what he’s thinking. After a long while, he says, “I believe you,” and Clarke sighs a deep sigh of relief. “It actually makes more sense.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, “I was so worried you wouldn’t believe me.”

“So, to clarify, before today, you thought you couldn’t go back. But now, you can?” he asks her, not meeting her eyes. 

“Yes, but Bellamy, I-I don’t want to leave you,” he nods solemnly. 

“Let’s go to bed,” he says to her and rises to leave. 

“Are you upset? You seem like you're upset,” she asks, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Clarke, of course I’m upset. This isn’t great news. I’m not upset with you, I’m just upset with the situation, and I’m getting a headache,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay,” she says, eyes still on the ground.

They return to Bellamy’s tent and lay in silence for a long time. She’s relieved he believes her, she had thought the worst case scenario would be if he didn’t believe her and got angry with her for trying to lie to him. But she thinks this may be worse. She can’t really understand what he’s thinking right now. He’s not happy, maybe a little sad, but mostly deep in thought. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bellamy says, turning to her in bed. 

“You can ask me anything,” she says, meeting his gaze. 

“This morning? After I found the gems. Was that a goodbye?” he asks slowly, piecing it together. Clarke feels tears spring to her eyes. Was that a goodbye? She doesn’t know.

“Bellamy,” she says through her tears, reaching out to touch his face. He grabs her hand where it’s resting on his cheek and leans over to capture her lips in a crushing kiss.

“Was it?” he asks again. 

“Bellamy, I don’t know what that was. I was feeling a lot of emotions and I-I love you so much,” she says through her tears. He nods in understanding. “It wasn’t goodbye, I’m not saying goodbye to you,” she says, sure. She leans over to kiss him and he allows her, but she can still feel the gears turning in his mind. They lay in the bed facing each other, breathing the same air. She nods off eventually, and when she closes her eyes, Bellamy is still awake.


	11. A Choice

When she wakes in the morning, Bellamy is nowhere to be found. She dresses quickly and exits the tent in a hurry, looking all over for him. She finds Raven by the fire. 

“Raven, have you seen Bellamy?” Clarke asks, trying to catch her breath. 

“Is he okay?” Raven asks, concerned.

“Raven! Where is he?!” Clarke asks, a little more harsh than she meant it.

“He’s in the woods,” she tells her, pointing in the direction she last saw him. 

“Thank you,” she tells Raven, and she runs into the woods. 

She finds Bellamy sitting beside a tree, looking at the dirt. 

“Bellamy! What are you doing out here?!” She asks breathlessly. 

“Come on, let’s go on a walk,” he tells her. 

“A walk?! Bellamy I just woke up, I need to eat something first,” she says, a bad feeling growing in her stomach. 

“Clarke, please. Come with me,” he stands and grabs her hand, leading her in the direction he wants to go. She follows, still holding onto his hand. 

They walk in silence for an hour or so, the morning dew still covering the green grass. There’s a crisp chill in the air that only the early morning can bring. 

“Where are we going?” she asks, breaking the silence.

“Don’t worry, you’re safe,” he tells her, ignoring her question. 

Soon, the fog of the morning parts and in the distance, she sees what they’re approaching. 

“Bellamy!”

He turned to face her. 

“You didn’t know?” he asks curiously.

“That we were coming here? No, of course not!” She was starting to feel sick. The stones were no more than half a mile away. She swallowed hard. No, he can’t be doing this. 

Bellamy turns to her suddenly, grabs both of her hands, raising them to his lips and kissing each one. 

“Clarke, Princess. There’s no use in waiting, I have to let you go,” he says, voice rugh like he’s holding back tears. Her lips were too stiff to speak, but she figures he can read the expression on her face like he always does. 

“Clarke,” he says urgently, “it’s your own time on the other side of those rocks. You have a home there, a place. The things you’re used to. And...your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” she says, hesitant. 

“There’s nothing here for you except violence and danger,” he pushes her gently towards the stones. She turns back to him, catching his hands and pulling him towards her. 

“Is there really nothing here for me, Bellamy?” She holds his gaze, not letting him look away from her for a second. 

He pulls himself gently from her grasp without answering. She looks into his eyes, filled with pain and anguish. 

“Do you remember the shack we found that day?” he asks her. She nods in response. “I’ll go to the house and stay until sunset, to um, make sure you’re safe.”

“Goodbye, Clarke,” he says, reaching into his pocket. He opens his hand and sitting in the center of his palm is a tiny glimmering emerald. Clarke shakes her head, but Bellamy grabs her hand, and places it in her palm. He takes her fingers and closes them around the emerald and turns to walk away. 

“Bellamy, wait!” she says, she grabs him by both of his cheeks and pulls him to her in a searing kiss, trying to communicate with her lips all the things she can’t bring herself to say in that moment. She hopes he understands. 

Bellamy pulls apart first, pulling her hands away from his face, turning, and walking down the hill in the direction of the shack. Clarke collapses to the ground, puts her face in her hands and cries for some measure of time. When she stands to face the stones, the sun is at high noon. She sits without moving for most of the afternoon. She tries to push all emotion out of her mind and use reason. Bellamy was certainly using logic when he told her that she should go back. She can’t deny the dangers and inconveniences of this time, but she has to admit she has enjoyed many aspects of it. She has her garden, and her medical knowledge, and she helps people. She enjoys the nights by the fire with the others and she’s even getting used to the taste of the moonshine. 

And then there’s Bellamy. She’s never felt so strongly about anyone in her life. He’s kind, and brave, and funny, and stubborn, and she loves him more than she ever thought she could love someone. 

Clarke always thought there was something missing from her life, something she couldn’t name. Coming here, meeting Bellamy, that was what she was missing. Maybe the stones knew something she didn’t when they pulled her through to this time.

She misses her mother and Wells and her home, but this is her home now, and she’s not upset about that fact. She has a purpose here and someone to come home to. Someone to come home to her. Friends who, she’s pretty certain, would do anything for her. 

She thinks about her mother, Wells, and Finn. They were probably driven mad with grief. Her mother may have killed Finn for taking her out there in the first place. She thinks if the passage of time moves at the same rate here as it does there, it’s been nearly six months since she went missing. They’ve probably already accepted that something bad happened to her and started to move on. She wishes she could send them a sign that she is okay, and happy. 

When reason starts turning to emotion, Clarke realizes she might have to use a different approach. Just what, she isn’t sure yet. 

Clarke turns to face the circle of stones and takes a step in that direction, Then another, then another. Pausing, she turns to face the other direction, down the hill. Taking a step forward, then another, then another, then another. Before she even realized what she had decided, she was halfway down the hill. 

Outside of the shack, she sees a candle lit in the window. Walking softly, she pushes the door open. He was in the front room, asleep on a narrow bench. He was sleeping on his back, like he usually does, mouth slightly open. The last traces of daylight shined through the window and fell on his face, illuminating the silvery white tracks of dried tears on his golden skin.

She stood watching him for several minutes, filled with an unspeakable tenderness. Moving as quietly as she could, she laid down beside him on the narrow bench and snuggled close. He turned to her in his sleep and gathered her close to his chest as he often does in the middle of the night. Half-awake, he reaches up to smooth her hair away from his nose. She feels the sudden jerk of him coming awake and realizing she was there. Suddenly, they tipped over, falling off the bench, Bellamy on top of her. 

She pushes her knee into his abdomen, “Get off of me! I can’t breathe!”

Instead of helping her predicament, he leans down to kiss her thoroughly, hands braced on either side of her face. Clarke decides to forget about breathing momentarily in order to concentrate on more important things. 

They lay on the floor, holding each other for a long time before Bellamy finally asks, “Why?”

She kisses his cheek, damp and salty. She can feel his heart beating in his chest and she wishes they could stay here forever. Just sharing the same air. 

“I had to,” she tells him shakily. “You don’t want to know how close it was, indoor plumbing almost won,” and then she started to cry because the choice was so freshly made. Her love for Bellamy mixing together with her grief for the life she was giving up. She reaches into her pocket to show him the emerald, placing it back in his hand. 

“I love you, Bellamy. I’m not going anywhere,” she tells him, trying to convey how much she means it. 

“Clarke,” he looks at her in wonderment. “I love you too.”

“Let’s go home,” she tells him. He sighs deeply, releasing the built up tension of the day.

He smiles at her and repeats, “Let’s go home.”

And they walk back to camp as he asks her questions about the past. 

“Do you know George Washington?” he asks her. 

She laughs hysterically at that, “Bellamy, I was born in 2002, not 1802!”

He just shrugs his shoulder at that as if to say ‘how was I supposed to know that?’ and she rolls her eyes at him. 

“Clarke, are you sure about this? I don’t want you to regret-” he starts to say, but she cuts him off with a kiss. 

“I’m sure,” she tells him with a smile. He smiles back at her, and kisses her on the forehead. 

“I love you,” he tells her. 

“I love you, Bellamy” she echoes back. 

“Maybe one day, we can use those gems and visit your home. Together,” he says, stroking her back. 

“Maybe, but I kinda like it here,” she answers. 

“I’m going to build us a house,” he declares, with a proud smirk on his face. There’s her Bellamy. 

“Not today, you’re not” she tells him. “Today, I want to go back to our tent and hide from the world with you.”

“Anything for you, Princess,” he says with a smile. And together, they walk hand in hand back to their tent and their friends. 

Maybe one day, they will be able to go back and visit her home together. She smiles at the thought of introducing her mother and Wells to Bellamy, her two worlds colliding. She could show him some of her favorite music and take him to her favorite restaurants. She would take him to the library, she thinks he would like that. She pushes that thought to the back of her mind for another day, because she wants to spend today here. With Bellamy and their friends, eating hard boiled eggs around the fire. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! This is completely unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine. I do not own the chapters used or any details from the Outlander aspect of this story. I'm tossing around an idea for a sequel where Bellamy and Clarke travel to present day, so let me know if you're into this and would be interested in a sequel. I also feel the need to mention that I truly have no medical knowledge so there may be plenty of mistakes with those parts of the story. Anyways, thanks for reading! Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


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